The Choices We Make
by Eldar
Summary: Harry goes back in time, from 5th year to 3rd year, to try to solve some mistakes he made. But there is a catch, his soul will be taken if he fails.It is PS, CS, POA, GoF, and OotP compatible, HHr, but later in the story.
1. Chapter One

Chapter One 

A/N: Sorry that this isn't a new chapter, but it is the first chapter redone in THIRD PERSON! I have been meaning to do this for a while, so its about time I got off my lazy arse and did it. Also, some differences in this chapter, while not huge, better sounding (Or so I think) then the original. Enjoy!

He could still remember, still remember the prophecy. No, not the prophecy that controlled his life, but the second prophecy, the prophecy foretelling the traitor's escape and subsequent return to the Dark Lord, Voldemort. He could still remember its haunting melody, its chilling implications, and its consequences.

Oh, yes. He understood the consequences. He understood that it was due to this prophecy that he didn't have a Godfather. He understood that the prophecy couldn't help but to come true, as it would be hard to find a rat running in the forest. However, understand it as he may, he just couldn't accept it. He couldn't accept that it was real, he just couldn't.

He couldn't accept that his Godfather was dead, due to the prophecy, or could he accept that it was due to his own mistakes as well. It was maddening. Each day, he'd wake up and go about his business in a brisk manner, neither wanting nor allowing human conversation.

It wasn't until the end of term, when Luna had talked to him briefly, that a plan had formed in his mind. He hoped, no longed, for his plan to work. But if it didn't…Well, he didn't really matter to the world.

He boarded the train, his mind still grappling with the ideas he'd put in his head. Ideas that, while only half-formed, would be very important in the near future.

He walked into his usual compartment on the train. With several measured steps and movements he placed his trunk on the rack, he then sat down on the bench, resting his head against the wall of the compartment. He stayed in the same position while the train started moving away from the station. Even when his friends walked in he took no notice of them. Even when they started playing a game of Exploding Snap, he took not notice of them. So lost in his depression, he never noticed when Malfoy and his two goons showed up. In fact, during that time, he fell asleep.

**.oOo.**

I stand, watching him fall, watching him write with agony as he falls into the veil. Yet, he freezes just at the point where the veil starts to connect with his head. He opens his mouth as if to speak.

FLASH 

_"Where am I?" I ask, suddenly surprised by the change in scenery. Gone is the Death Room in the Department of Mysteries. Gone is the falling Sirius and the veil. Instead there is nothing. Nothing except for the bright white light._

_"You are nowhere special." A voice says in reply._

_"Who are you?" I ask suddenly fearful._

_"I am the one who is here to offer you a choice. A choice that will be hard to resist, but is that all it appears to be?" The voice says, answering my question, and adding a rhetorical question._

_**Harry! **A voice yells from far off…Hermione's voice?_

_"What is the choice?" I ask bravely._

_"I am here to offer you the chance to go into the past. To a time two years ago. You mission would be quite simple: Kill or be killed. Voldemort, that is. He's been needing killing for some time, and you seem to the best suited for the task."_

_"How do you know about the prophecy?" I ask cautiously, silently hoping that this isn't another Voldemort induced dream._

_"I know of it, yes. However, that is not the issue at hand. You are offered a chance to go into the past. Will you take it?" The voice says patiently._

_"On the condition that Buckbeak doesn't need to be rescued. Also, I want to be in the Shrieking Shack, when Pettigrew was revealed." I pause. "Is that okay?"_

_"Is that all?" The voice asks in a bemused tone._

_"Yes." I say with finality._

_Silence enveloped the area, and time passed._

_"Are you there?" I ask._

_"My task is done, you will be in the past soon." The voice says after a long while._

_**HARRY! Oh god Ron, we're losing him! HARRY! Oh, please don't die Harry, please don't die…**_

And then I know no more.

**.oOo.**

"I'm sorry Peter, but it is time for you to die." Remus said, leveling his wand at the Traitor's heart. "Ava-"

"No!" Harry shouted, placing himself between the two men. "I don't think my Dad and Mum would want you two to become killers over the piece of filth." He said in response to their inquiring gazes. "Stupefy" He said after looking at the sniveling man with disdain. "Don't even think about it." The black haired youth said, leveling a glare at the two men.

He then walked over to the fallen Potions Master and revived him. "Professor Snape, sir." He said, looking at him. "I think you might want to take Pettigrew to the castle with Sirius."

Professor Snape responded with a stern glare. "And why should I do such a thing Potter?" He practically spat.

"Because sir, it would make sure that the guilty part would be found out, and it might help your standing in both circles you walk in." Harry felt a little guilty for letting the Potions Master tie up Sirius, but necessary evils…

He then walked over to Remus. "Don't use an unforgivable Moony." Harry said in an undertone. Remus smiled with gratitude.

He looked over the motley array in front of him: A Potions master that couldn't forget a vendetta that should've ended ages ago; A werewolf that was the best human being that Harry had ever met; A convicted murderer; An illegal animagus that betrayed his parents; and finally a bushy bookworm that was easily loved.

Wait, easily loved? Where'd that come from? He wondered; he then shoved it to the back of his mind. "Let's go to the castle," he said. "Before dementors show up." He added in an undertone, but still Hermione heard it.

"Right then." Snape still looked a bit peeved at having to tie up both Pettigrew and Sirius, but he did it nonetheless.

At a brisk pace Harry led the group away from the shrieking shack and towards the looming School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. They made it about three fourths of the way before the dementors showed up.

**.oOo.**

The cold was the first indicator. Second was the withering plant life around them. Finally was the depressing mood that overcame the small group. It wasn't a surprise then when the dementors arrived.

They arrived in droves, like vultures to a freshly dead corpse that had yet to be discovered by land scavengers. They moved in their peculiar manner, floating over the ground, extending their hands just enough to be creepy, but not enough to be frightening.

Snape was the first to crack, he yelled out. "EXPECTO PATRONUM" And a small silver like mist appeared from his wand, but it wasn't enough. Harry was impressed though, he didn't think that the Slytherin teacher would have many happy memories.

Sighing Harry reached into the fold of his robe and produced his wand. He pointed it in the direction of the dementors and concentrated on the Christmas spent at Number Twelve. "Expecto patronum" He said, and his patronus, a stag as always, flew from his wand, though its light was slightly dampened, it was still brilliantly lit. It lowered its horns and charged at the approaching dementors, its intent perfectly clear, even to the untrained eye.

**.oOo.**

"Harry, it seems that you've developed into a mighty wizard." The Headmaster said. It had been an hour and a half since the battle with the dementors, during that time he'd been barraged with questions, fought off a werewolf- he still raged at himself for forgetting that it was a full moon that night- and forced their small group to march to the castle. "As you've undoubtedly heard, with great power comes great responsibility. It may sound cliched, but it is very true, especially for you."

"Sir." Harry said, still slightly bitter at the man for hiding the prophecy from him, even though this version would know nothing of the deed. "I did only what was necessary. Why does this make it into a huge problem?"

"Because Harry, very few wizards can cast a patronus while under the dementor's effects. Fewer yet can totally destroy seventeen dementors with one patronus. And even fewer can severely injure another eighty or so." He raised a hand in warning. "I say this not to boost your ego, but just keep it in mind that you a very powerful wizard." He turned to an apparently in animate statue next to his desk. "Please show in Miss Granger."

To Harry's surprise the statue gave a small, parade ground worthy, salute, and walked down the steps leading to the Headmasters' office. It returned moments later, dragging a somewhat perplexed Hermione into the office. It saluted Dumbledore once again and returned to its original position.

"Harry and I were just talking about the events of the night, perhaps you'd like to share a little bit about how Peter was found?" The Headmaster said kindly.

"Well…"Hermione said, a little startled to be personally addressed to by the Headmaster of Hogwarts. After overcoming that small roadblock she launched into her tale. She told of how she, and Harry had been visiting Hagrid, to console him over the disappearance of his beloved hippogriff. Then, how they saw a black dog slinking around the Whomping Willow. They watched the dog as it suddenly leapt towards a rat on the ground and carried it into the tree's inner depths. The two descended into the tree, with Crookshanks's help as he touched the knoll that froze the tree. They then went along a path and they ran into Sirius Black glaring at a rat that was locked in a glass jar.

"…And then, Professor Lupin showed up, he and Mister Black talked for a little while, then they decided on a course of action, and blew up the jar, casting another spell on the rat at the same time. Apparently the rat had been Peter Pettigrew, the long dead animagus, though nobody knew it at the time…"

She went one to describe how Snape had shown up and was prepared to cut the dementors out of the job of killing Sirius. And then how she and Harry had disarmed him when he made to attack the two other men without provocation, effectively knocking him out.

"…Then, something in Harry changed and he yelled at Professor Lupin and Mister Black to stop what they were doing, instead he stupefied Pettigrew. He revived Professor Snape and pointed out that both Mister Black and Pettigrew where there, right where he could bring them in and further his reputation.

"Somehow, He got him to agree to doing it because we ended up walking to the castle, rather rapidly. We got about three-quarters of the way here when the Dementors showed up. Professor Snape tried casting a patronus, but failed. Then, Harry did the same and produced a stag, which then moved to kill the dementors and injure the rest…" Her voice died out.

"Sir, I was wondering, how many dementors are there?" She asked.

"Miss Granger, it is the best guess of the Ministry that about two hundred of those fell creatures exist, though we can reduce that number by seventeen now." He gave a pointed glance at Harry, as if reprimanding him for the loss of life.

She continued her tale and finished it up right when McGonagall found them right outside the castle.

Dumbledore was very pensive as he took in the information that she just told him. He was silent for some time before he opened his mouth. "The Ministry has decided to clear Sirius for the murder of Peter, however he had to pay a fine of ten thousand galleons for being an illegal animagus. However, he's receiving that much in 'apologizing money' as the Ministry has labeled it, so he's not losing any money." He looked at Harry closely, as if looking for a reaction to his next piece of news. "Peter Pettigrew has been sentenced to the Dementor's Kiss tomorrow evening." He then looked at both of them.

"I bid you goodnight, for 'tis very late." He then looked down at the paperwork on his desk in clear dismissal.

The two teens managed to walk all the way out of the office and were almost to the Gryffindor Common Room before Hermione placed a hand on Harry's shoulder in an effort to stop him. She looked at him with concern before speaking.

"How can you do that?" She asked, her voice close to breaking. "You just killed seventeen beings, and then sentenced another to death." Her voice broke and Harry noticed the raw emotion in her voice. Haltingly he put a hand on her shoulder, to try and calm her down, or, at least, to get her into a less depressed mood. "And, now you're able to help me! What happened to the Harry Potter I knew?" She managed to say. "You've become cold. And, what did the Ministry do to you?" She gave a wan smile. "Oh yes, I saw your face. Every time they came up, you had to keep your face from snarling, or doing something similar. Haven't they been nice these past years?"

Harry, not knowing what to do, hugged her as tightly as friendship allowed. "Hermione." He started. "I am the same Harry Potter you know. The same one that you met in our first year and helped Ron save you from a troll. The same one who sat by you every day in the Hospital Wing in Second Year when you were petrified." He gave a small, rather grim, smile. "I guess, I just wanted my parents avenged. By killing him, or sentencing him to death, I've done a little to help it. Also, dementors are things to be killed for the common good of the world."

They stood like that for a while, then Hermione broke the hug and they walked normally to the Common Room and into their dorms. Where sleep quickly claimed them.

**.oOo.**

Harry was quietly eating his breakfast, a simple porridge and toast meal, when the owl arrived. It was a very official looking owl that was probably arrogant. After he dropped off the letter he took the bit of Harry's toast that he'd been saving for Hedwig.

Harry quickly unwrapped the letter, revealing a length of stationary from the Ministry of Magic, Department of Magical Law Enforcement. On it was written a hastily scribbled message.

Harry,

By the time this letter reaches you I will have already been cleared of all charges. Seeing as I'm not a convicted murderer, would you like to come live with me?

Sirius

"Hey Harry?" Seamus asked.

"Yes?" Harry responded absently.

"What'd that letter say?"

"Just an offer from an old friend." Harry said, still looking at the letter in shock.

"Must've been a good offer, you look like Christmas 'as come early."

Harry smiled at that. In a sense it had, though not in the way that Seamus had been thinking. He managed to keep his excitement out of his voice as he responded. "Well, it has, in a way."

With a small whoosh, the Ministry Owl disappeared.

Once the Ministry Owl was gone, the horde of owls for the rest of the students descended upon the unsuspecting masses, dropping their letters where they should. The Daily Prophet was a regular projectile, hitting most everybody in the head. Harry's copy however, landed in front on him.

Displayed on the cover was:

**Black Declared Innocent Pettigrew Lives (And Escapes)**

By: Jane Danielson

In a surprise move the Ministry of Magic brought the previously thought murderer Sirius Orion Black to trial. While on stand he brought forth his evidence. Most of which was based solely on one person: Peter Pettigrew.

Pettigrew, thought to be dead until recently, was an Order of Merlin, 2nd Class receiver. There is now thought of removing the award from his mother. Furthermore, it was discovered while bringing the man to testify that Pettigrew bore the Dark Mark of He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. As bearing the Dark Mark is capital offence, top Aurors from the DMLE held him under guard.

Black was found innocent, and in order to express the apologies that the Ministry felt towards Black the Department of Treasury authorized a 10,000G deposit into his account. However, Black had to pay that in illegal animagus fines when it was found out that he was an illegal animagus. He is currently being added to the list of animagi of the 20th century (Common Era)

To temper the good with the bad, Pettigrew escaped. The Ministry is bringing together the largest manhunt in the past 50 years. In order to track down this wayward Death Eater. More in tonight's issue.

Harry smiled when he read the paper. He was so happy that nothing could ruin his current mood. When he spotted the familiar snowy white owl among the masses he beckoned her down and scribbled a quick acceptance letter off to Sirius.

"Take care girl." He whispered to her as she took of. She gave a reassuring hoot as she flew away from the table.

He watched the owl he'd had for five years fly away with a small smile on his face, he was going to live with Sirius! For real this time! He could feel most of his depression from the death of his godfather start to slip away.

"Harry." Dumbledore said from behind Harry's shoulder. "I'd like to talk to you in my office now."  
Harry obligingly got up and followed the old man away from the table. Out of the corner of his eye he saw some of the people at the table he'd just recently occupied start whispering amongst themselves. He followed Dumbledore until they arrived at his office and then, giving the password, Dumbledore and Harry ascended the stairs.

Once they were inside the confines of Dumbledore's office, Dumbledore sat down at his desk and motioned to Harry to sit in a chair. Which he did.

"Yes sir?" Harry said after a moment of silence in which Dumbledore did nothing.

"Harry, I cannot impress upon you the importance of going to your relatives house. It is your home Harry." Dumbledore said in his best grandfatherly voice.

"Sir, quite frankly it is not your job to decide what goes on during the summer. It is not up to you where I go, you have no say in it. After all, you are nothing but a headmaster of a school. Not my guardian." Harry stated firmly.

"Harry." Dumbledore started. "It is for your own good. There are blood protection wards around Privet Drive. Wards that protect the place that is home to you. For that reason they are immobile. I do have the authority as the Headmaster of the school to detain you, pending results for your finals. If only to make sure that you can study for them to take them again."

Harry stared at Dumbledore in horror. Surely he wouldn't mess with a student's test scores in order for him to stay at the Dursley's! It was unthinkable; the Greatest Wizard of the Century was a pure man, a man who desired naught but to teach children. Right?

"Sir." Harry said. "I really don't think that this is the best way to be handling matters." He took a breath. "I know that in my parents' will that Sirius was named as my guardian. And, Sirius hadn't been incarcerated by then, so he hasn't given up any legal right to me now. I can and will plead a case in front of the entire Wizengamot on my custody. Don't make me."

Dumbledore stared at Harry uncomprehendingly then he looked at him with eyes full of terror. "Get out of him Tom!" He yelled at Harry. "Is it not enough that you haven't died a natural death? Must you come back and haunt us here?" He pointed his wand at Harry's forehead. "This won't help you a bit Harry, if there's enough of you left in there to comprehend what I'm saying."

Harry looked at Dumbledore, eyes full of confusion until it clicked. "Sir! I'm not being possessed or what ever you want call it. I am Harry James Potter!" He had to move quickly to dodge the stunner that was flung his way by the Headmaster.

'Just when I thought I could trust him.' Harry thought bitterly. He was forced to move when another stunner was fired his way.

"Tom! I'll force you out of the boy!" Albus cried, lost in what could be best described as delirium.

**.oOo.**

After escaping from the Headmaster's office Harry made his way to the Gryffindor Common Room. He dutifully gave the password to the Fat Lady and walked tiredly into the room, throwing himself onto the couch. He saw several First Years look at him nervously. Their minds wondering if the Boy-Who-Lived had had a very bad day, and if he would take it out on them.

He quickly forced himself to relax on the couch and he gradually saw blackness invade his vision, until he fell asleep.

**.oOo.**

"Think we should wake him?" A male voice asked.

"Yes, Ron!" A female voice answered, exasperated. "We are leaving in less then fifty minutes, do you think he'd appreciate it if we let him sleep until the train left?"

"Well…" The male voice, Ron, responded.

"Guys, it's too late for that, I'm awake." Harry yawned, his body just starting to wake up. He cracked open his eyes slowly, barely able to see Ron and Hermione standing next to the couch, and, by proxy, him.

"See Ron, I told you to wake him." Hermione said before turning to Harry. "Ron helped me put away your stuff." She said, smiling a little.

"Thanks." He responded. He then turned to Ron and giving him a small nod of the head.

"We'd better get down to the feast." Ron said, his stomach giving a small rumble of agreement.

Harry and Hermione laughed and the three walked through the Fat Lady's portrait hole and down to the Great Hall.

**.oOo.**

"I am glad that this year made it through with nothing greater then a broken leg." Dumbledore said to the residents of the Great Hall. "It definatly was better than past years." He looked pointedly at the trio sitting at the Gryffindor table, his eyes lingering on Harry for a little longer then anybody else. Harry could read the victory in his eyes.

"On a sadder note, on of the students has failed the third year." Dumbledore said, a note of victory seeping into his eyes. "I have been told by Professor Severus Snape that he has had a dismal record in Potions and thus it was to be expected that he would fail this year. The student in question will be required to stay at the castle to retest in all subjects. And,-"

A flash of flame on the far side of the room drew Dumbledore's attention along with the rest of the Great Hall's occupants'. A bird flew out of the flame, holding a red letter in its talons, once it was over the staff table it let go of the letter.

By magic or sheer luck the letter landed in front of an unconcerned Albus Dumbledore. He reached out and grabbed the letter with his left hand. Harry noticed that the hand was trembling, albeit rather unnoticeably.

He calmly opened the letter, but it burst into flame and exploded. "ALBUS DUMBLEDORE!" A voice yelled. "I CANNOT BELIEVE THAT YOU FALISFIED HARRY POTTER'S TEST SCORES! GIVING HIM A FAILING GRADE IN EVERY CLASS! I SHOULD REMOVE HIM FROM HOGWARTS!" The voice stopped and the howler promptly disintegrated.

Harry looked around the staff table and stopped when he saw Professor Lupin, who was almost choking on his drink. 'Good 'ol Moony.' Harry thought before he saw Professor McGonagal slap Dumbledore on the wrist. Harry winced, but then thought better of it and whistled loudly, causing McGonagal to smile a little.

McGonagal handled the rest of the meal as Dumbledore excused himself to go to his room after he was slapped.

After they were shoed out of the Great Hall the Trio grabbed their belongings and walked to the carriages outside, where they got in one and rode all the way down to Hogsmeade station.

Once there they boarded the Hogwarts express and waited for the train to leave the station. While they were waiting they struck up a conversation and somehow got on the subject of Quidditich.

"I tell you guys." Ron was saying. "The Chudley Cannons are the best Quidditich team out there! They will go to the World Cup next time, I know it." He looked around, as if trying to remember something. "I've been instructed to invite you to the Quidditich World Cup, it's this summer." He looked at both. "I would like it if both of you came, we got Top Box seats." He looked at both rather anxiously.

"Sure Ron." Hermione said, looking at Harry quickly. "We'll both go." Harry noticed that she said we, but let it slide, after all he was going to accept.

"Great!" Ron said, evidently not noticing the We. "And you, Harry?"  
"Ron, didn't you here what Hermione said? She said that we'll go." Harry said.

"Oh." He paused. "Congratulations then, you know, I thought you two were good for each other."

Hermione and Harry looked at each other in complete astonishment, they weren't together!

"Ron." Hermione started. "We're"

"Not seeing each other." Harry finished, without thinking about it.

Ron snorted. "Sure."

"Really!" They both protested at the same time. "We're not going out."

"Really? Then, what was that on the way to the Common Room last night? You sure you weren't hugging her?" Ron said with a large grin.

"How'd you see that?" Harry said sharply.

"Colin told Dennis told Lavender told Ginny told me." He said, and started laughing.

Hermione then moved and sat down next to Harry. Which took Harry by surprise, but it wasn't totally unwanted.

"Well…I guess that was unexpected." She said to Harry.

"No kidding." Harry said.

**-End Chapter One-**

A/N: Yep, kinda different. I hope that you all who are reading this enjoyed it. Sorry about the false chapter, it was the only way I could think of warning any readers of the story that there was a newly done first chapter.

Eldar


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two 

**A/N:**_ Yes, I redid this one too, there isn't any real new content, except Ron getting a new owl. I hope you enjoy it._

Harry and Hermione were still sitting next to each other when a regal looking Great Horned Owl swooped into the train compartment, its wings beating strongly and silently, save for the _whump_ created on every wing stroke. Clenched in its talons was a letter written on some parchment that doubled as stationary to a Realty agency located in Diagon Alley. As the owl landed on the seat next to Harry it dropped the letter in Harry's lap.

Harry picked up the letter gingerly, not knowing if it was from Sirius or some other person, but a large smile dominated his face after he read it.

_Dear Harry,_

_By the time this owl reaches you, you'll probably be on the train. I was just thinking that I'd write to you to tell you about the house I just bought from Jennifer at the Cozy Homes Realty agency. (Odd name eh?)_

_I didn't think that you'd enjoy Grimmauld Place so I went ahead and bought a new house, its located near Dover, and thus near the channel. I'll tell you more about it later._

_Sirius_

_P.S. Ron can keep the owl, seeing as I am responsible for the loss of Scabbers._

Harry silently handed the letter to Hermione, who read it and looked at him with a question in her eyes. She then handed it to Ron who read it and gave a whoop of joy when he read the post-script.

"Grimmauld Place?" Hermione asked Harry.

"No idea." He lied through his teeth.

"Just wondering." She said. "On the channel, eh?"

"Yeah…" Harry said, distracted.

The train ride passed in comfortable silence as the three teens looked out the windows, each being captive to their own thoughts. Eventually Harry fell asleep, Hermione soon followed suit and Ron was left to just look at a Quidditich book that he'd gotten.

**.oOo.**

_I stand, my body barely being able to stand on its own. I can feel the various snaps and cracks from my back as I attempt to grab my wand. I brush my hand against another's and I look to see whose it was._

_I am confronted with an older woman, whose hair, though brown, had slightly grayed with age. Her eyes were hazel colored, and were brimming with intelligence. I nod at her as I move toward the door, wincing with every crack I hear from my back._

_I reach out and turn the doorknob slowly. After I get the door opened I turn to see who it was. I'm astonished when I see a house-elf standing there, a kitchen knife held casually in its hand. I kneel down to its level._

_"Hello…?" I say._

_"Spinny is sorry master. Spinny will try to do a better job next time." The house-elf says before taking the knife held in its hand and driving it towards my skull._

**.oOo.**

Harry's eyes snapped open, his forehead was damp, but with sweat, not blood, for which he was glad. _'That was one weird dream'_ he thought to himself as he looked around the compartment he was in. Hermione was still sleeping, Ron was playing with his new owl, and Hedwig and Crookshanks were both fast asleep, with as close to contented expressions that both Cats and Avians could make.

He slowly forced his nerves to move his arms and, with a great effort, managed to force himself up in the chair. "Trolley Lady come yet?" He said, somewhat amused by the surprised expression on his friend's face at Harry's voice.

"What? Oh- no." Ron said, still covering his surprise to see Harry awake. "You've only been sleeping for close to five minutes." He added, after checking his watch.

"You'd never believe the dream I had." Harry yawned.

"Oh?"

"I was killed by a House-Elf named Spinny." He whispered dryly. "At an age closer to a hundred than fifteen." Ron laughed softly at that.

"Only you would be killed by a House-Elf." He said in-between laughs. "I can see the headlines: **The Boy-Who-Lived, killed by convict House-Elf**." His comment caused Harry to laugh at his weird dream, and, surprisingly enough, his title.

"Figured out a name for that Owl of yours yet?" Harry whispered after a moment's silence.

"Eh. I'll let Ginny handle it, she's better with this kind of thing than me." Ron whispered back.

"Why are we whispering?" Harry whispered.

"Because you started it." Ron whispered back.

"Ah."

With their conversation over Ron went back to playing with his owl and reading his Quidditich book and Harry grabbed a book out of his trunk. He glanced at the cover and set to reading.

The book title was **"****The****Lord****of****the****Rings****"**.

**.oOo.**

"Hermione, time to wake up." Harry said, shaking her shoulder a little. Hermione only responded by burrowing herself deeper into the chair made bed and groaning a little. "Hermione, I'm serious, it's time to wake up." Harry looked at Ron with an evil glint in his eye. "Hermione, I just got a letter from Dumbledore, it seems that I really _did_ fail all my classes." **(1)**

At this, Hermione awoke instantly, going from sleeping into lecturing in less than fifteen seconds. "…And, you will study…Why are you both laughing?" She asked, before realizing that she'd been 'had'. "Don't you ever do that to me again, understand, ever!" She yelled at him.

Harry couldn't stop snickering, so he nodded. Ron followed suit moments later. Both couldn't do it mutely though, so they did it in as close to silence as they could. However, that didn't stop Hermione from glaring resolutely at them.

After a good fifteen minutes the lady pushing the trolley showed up at their compartment, most of her wares were gone, but that didn't stop Harry and Ron from buying most of her remaining goods. Once she was gone, Ron started going eagerly after his Chocolate Frogs, hoping to get one he _hadn't _received yet. Which is to say, hoping for a miracle. Harry and Hermione could only smile as Ron opened up every Chocolate Frog and stuffed it in his mouth, only to cough it out when he realized that he didn't receive a new card.

"So, Hermione." Harry started. "What's your plans for the summer?"

"Well…" Hermione's voice died out. "I'm not really planning on anything, I'm going to be going over to Ron's house, obviously, but I really don't have any plans. Why?" She said questioningly to Harry.

"Just curious, I really don't know what to expect with Sirius and his house." Harry stated truthfully. Inside, he was as happy as one could be, but he wasn't going to tell anybody about that, not yet.

"Well…" Ron said through his squirming chocolate frog. "I've heard that he _was_ a crazy one; the Crazy One of the Blacks, I believe his family called him." He coughed out the frog as he looked at his wizard card, which he promptly tossed out the window. Which caught on an updraft, and went away. "Not that I agree with them, of course." He added hastily as he thought about what he said about whom.

As the scenery became familiar the friends parted to change. The boys went to the bathroom to change while Hermione had the cabinet to herself and got to change there. When the friends arrived back together it was with a distinctly depressed air.

"Well." Harry said, summing it up. "I guess that's it, no more Hogwarts for another year." The others all nodded and sat down, trying to pick safe topics to talk about.

**.oOo.**

The wizard card, which happened to be of Dumbledore, was flying on an updraft. It was at 3000 meters when it stopped lifting and dived towards the surface of Earth. The wizard card was flying around in speeds in excess of 100 kilometers per hour, its back starting to come off due to friction.

It hit something and fell to the ground. The area it had landed in was Western London and the thing it had rammed was a man. The man was about 1.87 meters tall, had brown hair and blue eyes, overall very ordinary looking. Very ordinary indeed, for this man was a muggle. And, not only a muggle, but a member of the Interior Security arm of the SIS, or MI-5.

He stooped down, and picked up the card, and the fate of the Wizarding World was forever changed. _'Albus Dumbledore…Can't say I've heard the name'_

**.oOo.**

The train's wheels screeched as the airbrakes took hold and stopped the train on its entry to Platform 9 ¾, Kings Cross, London. The prefects automatically got out and held the doors for the younger students and the students filed out, in orderly chaos.

As each student had their baggage it was easy for each to make their way to their parents instead of waiting around to get their luggage. So, it was with a depressed air that the three friends separated.

Ron headed to his mother, which promptly took him under his arm and waited for the Twins and Ginny, meanwhile commenting on his new owl. Harry followed Hermione, as he saw Sirius standing near the Grangers. And Hermione walked towards her parents.

As Harry and Hermione neared the three adults Harry saw the Dursleys out of the corner of his eye. They hadn't noticed him and were preparing to leave the station, when he turned to Sirius. "I need to get some of my stuff from the Dursleys!" He said.

"What?" Sirius said. "No hello?"

In response Harry hugged him, not quite as emotionally as he probably would have under different circumstances, but still pretty tightly nonetheless. "Hello." He said thickly.

Mister Granger eyed Harry warily as the five talked among themselves. His thoughts, had they become known, would've been along the lines of: _so that's 'That Potter Freak.'_ Though, to be fair, he'd just spoken to Vernon Dursley.

If Sirius noticed Mister Granger's glares or not is still up for debate, but he guided Harry away, towards a car he'd procured earlier that day: a midrange sedan. They put Harry's trunk in the back and got in, driving away, towards Little Whinging, Surrey.

**.oOo.**

"So, Ron." Ginny said. "What's up with the new owl?" She was usually to the point like that. No dancing around the subject, unless the subject was Harry.

"Gift." Ron said gruffly and walked past her, trying to catch up with the rest of his family.

The Weasleys were on a trek to the Leaky Cauldron, as Harry and Ron had ruined the Ford Angelina that Mister Weasley had owned and modified several years previous. That, and Fudge wasn't feeling very altruistic lately; he'd ordered Department Heads not to use Ministry Transportation for personal use.

So, the Weasley clan was stuck marching to the Leaky Cauldron. And Ron was stuck next to Ginny who had been pestering him about the owl for the past half-hour. That had been bugging him along with the fact that something was wrong, but what? He didn't know.

Then it stuck him Percy wasn't there! He couldn't find the former prefect anywhere! Looking around he couldn't see him in any of the crowd. Working his way forward he started talking to his mother. "Mum." He asked. "Where's Percy?"

Missus Weasley looked at him suspiciously, she evidently thought that he took too much from the Twins, and thought that he was planning some sort of prank on him. "He's at the Ministry, getting his apparition license." She said shortly.

Ron looked somewhat confused. _'That's something that he'd rub in our faces, something's wrong.'_

The four teens of the Weasleys looked among each other. Something was seriously wrong!

**.oOo.**

"…You should've seen Ron's face when the owl came in and landed on his shoulder." Harry was laughing. "He looked like Christmas had come early. He ended up wondering if that wasn't some elaborate prank." He was telling the tale of the Owl Flight, as he'd termed it in his mind.

Sirius laughed at the mental picture then he pointed at the street. "That the one?"

Harry looked at the sign and nodded. His good humor of before now wrecked. He looked at the sign and then looked down the rows of uniform houses for the one that he'd spent most his life inside. "There's Number Four." He said, pointing at a home.

Sirius skillfully executed a turn that would've left most dizzy. Somehow, he avoided the mass of traffic that went up and down the road at this time of day. He parked the Sedan in the driveway of Number Four and got out, locking the doors. He did remember his keys though. Harry did the same.

Together they walked to the front door of Number Four. Inside they could hear obvious signs of partying. "The Freak is gone Petunia!" Harry could hear his Uncle crying. "The Freak is gone! Gone, forever, like a bad disease!"

Sirius, having heard enough hit the doorbell, probably a little harder than needed.

**.oOo.**

Hermione and her parents were putting her stuff in their car, a higher end BMW four door coupe. Together they wrestled with Hermione's trunk, fighting for every inch that it fell into the trunk.**(2)** After they got it in the trunk they went into the car and practically fell into the seats.

Hermione looked out the window as her father drove away. It was surprising, she decided, how clueless wizards were about proper muggle dress, she decided this after seeing a man who was obviously a wizard walk out of a store holding a dress.

"So, anything good happen this year?" Missus Granger said, deciding to break the ice first.

"Well…" Hermione launched into a heavily edited story of her latest story at Hogwarts. She told them of the Quidditich season, of Crookshanks, who chose that moment to pop his head out of trunk and work his body into the main part of the car, pushing down part of the back seat. She talked of Remus Lupin, the latest Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. She went on to tell of how they, meaning the trio, barely managed to pass the year. And, finally, she talked about their ride back and how Ron got a new owl, to replace his rat. "…And, now Harry's living with his Godfather, Sirius Black." She said, wrapping up the tale.

_SCREECH. _Mister Granger had stomped on the brakes, luckily they were on a little used road.

"Sirius Black." Mister Granger snarled. "The murderer? That man we were talking to was Sirius Black?" _'Don't let that Vernon fellow be right about that Potter Freak'_ He thought to himself.

"Sirius Black?" Missus Granger shrieked. "I never would've thought that that well mannered fellow was really a convicted mass-murderer." She spoke in a voice that was many times too high. "And he's Harry's godfather?" _'What were his parents thinking?'_ She thought to herself.

Hermione just sighed and started to tell the tale of why he was innocent.

**.oOo.**

The Weasleys all filed into the Leaky Cauldron, their distinctive red hair making them obvious to anyone who cared to look. "Just using the floo, Tom." Mister Weasley said as they made their way to the fireplace. He re-started the fire with his wand and gave the floo powder to his wife, who gave a handful to Ginny. She promptly threw the powder in the fire, which made it glow green, she yelled out "THE BURROW" and disappeared.

The entire family did this until Mister Weasley was the only one left. He drew a sickle from a money pouch at his hip and tossed it towards Tom with a nod. He then disappeared into the fireplace.

At the Weasley household, there was little but chaos, organized chaos, but chaos nonetheless. Ron was racing up to his room with his trunk in hand, Ginny followed suit minutes later, and finally the twins ran up to their room and placed their trunks in their room.

After unpacking the teens met up in Ron's room, since it was bigger, and started talking about Percy and started proposing theories about what happened to him. The craziest theory was proposed by the twins, which involved a splinching, which was a thought that each was loathe to think about. Ron and Ginny were of the opinion that he was just getting a job.

At dinnertime the teens filed down the stairs and into the dining room. Ginny automatically started setting the table for seven until she looked up and noticed two people who were rarely seen in the Weasley residence.

"BILL! CHARLIE!"

**.oOo.**

Hermione had stopped looking out of the window, but now she looked out again and thought that the scenery looked familiar. It was then that she realized that they were near home. When her father pulled into the driveway she noticed something new on the lawn. A giant sign that read. "For Sale by Owner." And below was slung a red sign. "Sold."

"Mum, Dad?"

**.oOo.**

Dudley was sent to the door. That was actually a good thing, because the first thing he said was: "You're not welcome here, freak." Causing Sirius to stun him. Harry then walked over to the cupboard under the stairs and gathered up all his belongings there and dragged them out. It was a miserable pile of medieval knights and wizards.

It was perhaps for the best that Harry was upstairs in his room when Vernon and Petunia came out to find out what was taking their darling son so much time. What they found was more then they bargained for, they expected to find him snogging some pretty girl from around town, not to find him lying on the ground, comatose, and with a wizard-mass-murderer standing over him.

"Hello." He said softly. "I am Harry's godfather."

"You are not welcome in our house!" A very drunken Vernon Dursley began, purple in the face. "I will not have Freaks overrunning our household. He looked down at the pitiful pile that was all Harry had of his time in the cupboard. "I demand that you leave at once. You are breaking and Entering."

"No, I was invited in." Sirius said, gesturing to Dudley. "Your whale of a sun was kind enough to welcome us in." Which, technically wasn't a lie, as opening the door was seen as an invitation in the noble families.

"I will believe no such thing. You cannot have been invited in by Dudley, you must've bewitched him."

"Abra kadabra." A voice from above said mirthfully, causing the Dursleys to flinch and Sirius to roll to a side. Harry descended the stairs, his arms laden with paraphernalia from his earlier Hogwarts days and such. "Got the bag?" Harry asked.

"Yes."

Harry then dumped the pile in his arms into the bag and then did the same for the pile lying on the ground. He looked down at Dudley as well. "Nice look for him."

"Quite."

The two then waltzed right out of the Dursley residence and out to the car. Sirius stowed the bag in the back seat and then produced a old-style coke bottle from his pocket. "Grab on to the bottle, and the car." He said as he followed his own advice. He then spoke very concisely. "Sirius's new home." And Harry felt the familiar tug of a portkey.

**A/N: **_As I said before, none too different. I hope you'll forgive my use of the tenth chapter again. Now, onto my notes._

_**1:**__ The use of this. I had seen this once before in a different Fanfiction. I am sorry if that is considered copyright infringement or whatever it would fall on. Once I find where I found it, I'll make note of it, so as to cleanse any ruffled feathers._

_**2:**__ In the original chapter I used boot instead of trunk. However, trying to remember all of the Anglo-terms is getting to be too much, so I just said: "Screw it!" And now, am using the standard (At least over here) words. However, you may find a English spelling every once and awhile. _

_Sorry about the fake Chapter Ten again... I'll try to get a better update notice,_

_Eldar_


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three 

"Yes Hermione?" Her mum asked nervously, audibly gulping and obviously nervous.

"Why is our house sold?" Hermione asked.

The Grangers had just pulled their car on to their house's driveway and Hermione had just noticed the "For Sale By Owner" and "Sold" signs. She was instantly curious, but more concerned, what if she had to move away from Harry? She was pretty sure that there were more Magic schools in England, and her parents just might move out of driving distance of King's Cross station…

"Your father got an offer from an old friend from med school to have his practice for free." Missus Granger looked around nervously. "He accepted and we sold the house." She raised her hand to stave off any more questions. "We got a house in Little Whinging, Surrey. A Number Ten Privet Drive, I think."

Hermione surprised the lot of them by giving a small cheer. "When are we leaving?" She asked anxiously.

Her mother and father exchanged nervous looks. "In a few minutes so don't bother to take your things out of the trunk." Her father answered. "Your mother and I have already moved our things to the house, so we're just waiting for the new owners to show up. Miserable cheapskates." He added under his breath.

"Dan!" His wife chastised him.

"What? It's the truth."

"Be nice to them, the Richardson's are very nice!" She gave him a pointed look. "And, we were no better when we were their age."

"Alright, alright!" Mister Granger said, defeated.

In the back of the car, their daughter had only one thought going through her head. _I'm going to live near Harry! I'm going to live near Harry! I'm going to live near Harry!_ Her thoughts were interrupted when her father opened and shut his door.

"Mister Richardson." He said, extending a hand.

"Mister Granger." Hermione caught a look at this 'Mister Richardson' he was kind of tall, dark skinned, blue eyed, and raven-haired. His left ear was pierced with a single golden hoop that seemed more to fit in with the crowds he was in then to give any real fashion statement.

"Well, here's the house key." Mister Granger said, surenduring the house key to the man.

"Thanks." Mister Richardson said before walking back to his car. Hermione saw that it was a Mercedes of a rather high price. "It means a lot, sir."

"Don't mention it." Mister Granger said, rather tightly, though she didn't think that 'Mister Richardson' noticed it. Mister Granger then got back into his car and put his keys back into the ignition.

Starting the engine, Hermione's father put the car in reverse and drove away from his old house for the last time.

When they arrived on Privet Drive a little while later, Hermione noticed that the car Sirius was driving was parked in the driveway of Number Four and in her stomach she felt a sinking sensation. _Harry's living with Sirius this summer!_ She thought, angry at herself for forgetting it, especially because Harry was so happy about it.

She watched as Harry and Sirius walked out the door of Number Four and got into the car, Harry carrying a pitifuly small bag and placing it in the back of the car. She then watched as the car disappeared, most likely through a portkey.

Her parents noticed nothing.

"Here we are!" Her father proudly declared.

Hermione looked appraisingly at the house. It was a comfortable two story house with an attached garage, its outside walls were painted a nice shade of blue and its seemed to be in good repair. She shrugged, trying not to commit to a certain view. "It seems nice on the outside." She said after her inspection of the house was over.

"Wait 'till you see the inside, honey!" Her mother said, obviously greatly enthused about the house. "We've already made the bedrooms, so you just have to unpack and redo what we've messed up."

"Great!" Hermione said, getting out of the car. After her father popped the trunk, she reached in and pulled her trunk out from where it was wedged in.

Pulling her trunk, she managed to get to the porch of the house before she had to haunch over, forearms on her knees, exhausted. _I thought I was in better shape then this! _She raged at herself. _I do carry all those books around Hogwarts!_

Her father bent over and carried her trunk up to her room for her. Gratefully, Hermione followed him up to her room. Inside, there was her bed, a simple twin that she had had since she could remember; a desk and chair that her father had picked up for a song at some used furniture store; her closet and her dresser, which had the pictures of her and her friends on it…Speaking of which. "Mum?" Hermione asked. "Where's my pictures of Harry and Ron?"

All she got was a muffled reply; deciding to investigate, Hermione went downstairs and, somehow, navigated her way to the kitchen where she was sure her mother would be, trying out the new appliances. She was not disappointed. "Mum?" she asked again.

"Yes?" Her mother replied distractedly, looking down at the oven, most likely trying to convert Fahrenheit to Celsius. (Her parents, in order to cut costs, they weren't _that_ well off, had bought an American oven, though just _how _this saved money, Hermione knew not.)

"Where are all my pictures of Ron and Harry?" Hermione asked, dreading the answer for some inexplicable reason.

Her mother's eyes darted around nervously, then, "Your father threw them out." She said quietly, trying not to irk her daughter's ferocious temper.

"He WHAT?" Hermione yelled.

Her mother sighed.

**.oOo.**

In a flash of colours and lights Harry, Sirius, and the car appeared in the front lawn of the house that Sirius had bought; at least, Harry assumed that this was the house. It was a large house that appeared to have been just set in place, its large double doors were painted a garish shade of red that made Harry wince and cover his eyes. The house was about three stories in all, without the basement or attic though. Harry had the distinct impression that a wizard, who was trying to imitate his muggle neighbors, and failing dismally, built the house.

_If this is what they call a cottage_ Harry thought _I'd hate to see what they consider a mansion or manor_. His amusement was cut short and replaced with awe as he walked through the red doors.

Inside, the house was filled with all the furniture that he would ever think of needing, in the front entryway alone there was a large green leather couch, a brown leather recliner that appeared to be a decade past current, and a bookshelf filled with hefty tomes, some muggle bound, some not. The titles included _The Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire _by J. Rolwy; _Muggles' Tales: A Compilation of Tales Involving Magic in Muggle Literature from Around the World _by K. Richards; _A History of The Magical British Isles from 100AD-1983AD _by A. Dumbledore; _How Car's and Other Muggle Artifacts Work _by F. Dowling (Harry was pretty sure he'd seen this title on Mister Weasley's desk in the Ministry before his hearing) and _The Lord of the Rings _by J.R.R. Tolkien.

Harry reached down into the bookcase and retrieved the Dumbledore tome –he vaguely noticed that it was a muggle published book- interested in anything his headmaster had written, even though he wouldn't have particularly cared if said headmaster would just keel over and die at that moment in time. He paged through the volume, wondering just _how_ comprehensive it was, until he arrived at an entry in 1945, a story that he'd wanted to know for a while was told there. The entry, paraphrased obviously, is below.

_"…the Second World War, as it was known to muggles, was known as the Fifth War of Wizardkind. It turns out that the Dark Wizard Grindelward had started the war... He had met Adolf Hitler (A relatively unimportant German muggle) while visiting his incarcerated father and find out how he was doing at the time, he had walked into the wrong cell by accident and saw the man (Hitler) writing furiously in a book, which he would later publish under the title Mein Kompf (My Struggle)…Albus Dumbledore, knowing that if the world was going to go back to the peaceful state it was at before he was going to have to kill Grindelward…A furious battle was fought in a castle located in the northern region of Germany. Dumbledore won with ease and it was there that his crusade against all things supporting the Dark was started._

_"Other notable events include the discovery of a process to turn Lead into Platinum (An element that muggles value for its rarity, while, in fact, Goblins mine it before they can take it) by Nicholas Flamel, who would go on to create the Philosopher's Stone with Albus Dumbledore along with the Twelve Uses of Dragon's Blood."_

After Harry read that excerpt, he had to find out just who this A. Dumbledore was, surely Professor Dumbledore wouldn't give the muggle world the history of the wizarding world just to get published? He flipped to the back where the rear insert displayed a still picture of a man who looked a little different then Dumbledore. The insert read:

_"Aberforth Dumbledore was born in 1953 and is a regular contributor to Dragon Magazine. He enjoys chamber music and sixpin bowling."_

Harry laughed, of course Albus wouldn't write a history book of the Wizards for the muggles, so his brother Aberforth did and –Harry checked the cover- in the form of an Advanced Dungeons and Dragons Expansion book.

"I see you've found the Dumbledore book." Sirius said from the doorway, his wand pointed behind him, following it with his eyes Harry saw that Sirius was levitating his trunk and sack.

Harry smiled guiltily and stood up to take his trunk, but Sirius stopped him with a hand and displayed what would be described by an unbiased observer as evil. The same unbiased observer would probably wonder why the hell the trunk and sack were floating, but you can't have everything in life.

"No, I'll just have the House Elf do it." He said, at a normal voice, but it seemed louder to Harry.

With a _pop_ a House Elf appeared. It was like most House Elves in the fact that it had overly large eyes and a long nose, but other then that it was very different. This House Elf was gray skinned and seemed to have a mouth more accustomed to smiling then screaming in pain. Also, it wore a small suit that Harry supposed must've been bought for a young child as it fit the House Elf excellently. A badge proudly displayed that his name was "George".

"How can I help you?" George the House Elf asked in nearly flawless and accentless English. Harry noted with surprise that the House Elf spoke in the first person, not third.

"George, can you take these up to Harry's Room?" Sirius asked the House Elf kindly.

The House Elf nodded and walked over to touch them, once he did he vanished without a _pop_. "He only does that to inform me that he heard and has come." Sirius explained to Harry, who was wearing an expression of surprise.

"Ah." Harry said, as if that explained everything, which it really didn't.

**.oOo.**

He was angry. No, scratch that, he was furious, furious that he, Albus Dumbledore the most powerful wizard of the Modern Era, was being kept out of the loop, furious that his bird had delivered a Howler to him.

'_I'm not __your__ bird.'_ A voice said from everywhere, yet nowhere. '_You __do__ know that, don't you?_'

"Who's there?" He said, drawing his wand and pointing it at the door. "I'm warning you, I know some rather nasty curses."

'_Resorting to threats are we?_' The voice asked. '_Kind of petty for the world's greatest wizard of the modern century, isn't it?_'

"I know you're out there, just come out and nobody will get hurt." His voice quavered, just a little, he didn't think anybody would notice.

'_Sure, and you're just a scared bugger who thinks that if he acts tough, nobody will annoy you._' The 'voice' snorted derisively. '_Just like you failed Harry Potter for his own good. You really think you were helping him?_'

"Well…" He said, shuffling his feet a little, then getting up. "How do you know about that?"

'_Being omnipotent has its advantages._' The voice sniffed. '_You really think that being the Most Powerful Wizard of the Modern Era is amazing, don't you? Well, NEWSFLASH! It doesn't allow you to meddle in other peoples' affairs._'

"Wait…What's your name?"

'_Horquet, the God of Healing, Light, Truth and Magic._' The voice responded.

_Just what I needed_ the man thought _a God to meddle with me!_

**.oOo.**

Ginny ran over to her brothers, who were grinning like idiots, which Ron was of the opinion of that's what they were, and hugged them tightly. Somehow she managed to hug both of them. She then walked over to the cupboard and grabbed two extra of everything, she then re-set the table for nine. She looked up at the large family clock that displayed where all of the family members were. All of their hand, save Percy, were currently on "Home", Percy's was on "In Transit" after a long pause it was "Home" and they all heard the distinctive crack of an apparition gone successfully.

They all turned to watch as Percy walked into the kitchen, his robes were streaked with rubble and his face had some blood on it. He also seemed to be favoring his right foot. His expression though, was one of great satisfaction. "I made it." He said proudly. "I only splinched myself the first time, but I made it the second time. And." He turned to his father. "I got a job for the Ministry!"

Mister Weasley grinned like a little kid in a candy store with fifty pounds to spend. "Where?" He asked anxiously.

"Department of International Magical Cooperation." He said with another grin. "I've always wanted to get a job like that!" He practically floated out of the kitchen and walked into the bathroom to clean up for dinner.

Missus Weasley let out sort of a sigh of happiness mixed with a sigh of depression. "My little baby's all grown up." She explained to her husband, who had raised in eyebrow at the noise.

The dinner was spent in deep conversation, ranging from a tale from Bill about how his partner had gotten himself locked into a tomb where the mummy actually _was_ animated, to a tale from Charlie about how a fellow Dragon keeper was dumb enough to try and pet a young Norwegian Ridgeback that they'd named Norbert. Ron snorted into his milk at this point and had to wait for a few precious minutes before he could eat. Percy remained silent throughout the entire conversation.

"So," Mister Weasley said to his third eldest son after dinner. "You have a job at the Ministry?" At this Percy nodded. "You do know that it is more work then a summer job?" Percy nodded again. "Okay, just checking." Mister Weasley said in defeat, his face falling, his son had gotten a job now…

Mister Weasley looked down at his growing son. "Time for bed." He said firmly.

"Alright Dad." Percy said, accenting this statement with a yawn. "I can't believe how much Apparition takes out of you!" He exclaimed, yawning the entire way up the stairs to his room.

Mister Weasley smiled, another Weasley would be working at the Ministry!

**.oOo.**

"Horquet…Horquet…"The man was muttering as he was furiously paging through a book. Proudly emblazoned on the cover was _Gods and Goddesses of Magic_. "Horquet…" He closed the book with a snap and his expression turned from one of frustration to one of victory.

"You aren't listed in the book." He declared. "You are not a God, thus you must be in this room." He looked around as if expecting somebody to jump out and yell, "BOO!"

_'Just because I'm not in a book that a mere mortal wrote does not mean that I am not a god!' _ The voice cried indignantly.

The man just sighed and turned to the room's other occupant, a Phoenix. The red and yellow bird stood proudly atop his perch, master of all he surveyed. "Can you deliver a letter for me?" Dumbledore asked the bird seriously.

The bird gave a regal nod; filled with more poise then any royal could ever hope to have.

The man smiled and pulled out a letter he'd written before. "Could you please deliver this letter to Hermione Granger?" The man asked. "I believe that she'd like to see the contents of this letter."

The Phoenix looked disdainfully down on the letter and shook its head a clear "No" before looking away.

"Please." The man said. "It would mean a lot to me." He knew it sounded a lot like whining, but if that's what it took to put his plans in motion…

The Phoenix remained adamant.

_'Playing around in others' affairs are you, Dumbledore?'_ The voice asked. _'Manipulation is the realm of those who are truly gifted at it, not the realm of a man who barely knows what he's doing.'_ The voice gave the equivalent of a sniff. _'Why, I should be offended. Asking a _Phoenix,_ the mortal embodiment of all that is good on Earth, to act as a courier, but frankly, I'm curious as to how this will all play out in the end.'_

The Phoenix took one last look at the offending letter before going back to just standing on his perch and looking at the ceiling.

The man just sighed, for once –just once! – he'd like to have somebody listen to him, and not during school hours, but during the summer. He knew what it was like during the summer, just the droll holidays where a student did all the homework that a teacher assigned for the summer as the summer drew to a conclusion. The scramble for the shops in Diagon Alley to try and get all the school supplies before they ran out in the final weeks of summer.

_Maybe full year school really is a good idea…_ He thought before trying to figure out how he was going to get the letter to Miss Granger quickly.

**.oOo.**

Harry settled into the armchair that he'd first sat in when he walked inside the house. It was a nice large armchair that could recline. It was made out of worn leather that was very comfortable to him, applying equal pressure in all areas and yet feeling as if he were sitting _in_ the armchair, not atop the chair.

He had a feeling of being _home_, and then all Hell broke loose.

Sirius flew out of the kitchen and out the front door, closely followed by George the House Elf and Remus. The latter two trying not to run into Sirius or his paring knife he'd been holding earlier.

Harry looked around the house and noticed that the walls glowed with a shade of violet that testified to the presence of power, and lots of it. He looked around, trying to find someway of figuring out what happened.

_-"There are wards around where his home is." The man was saying to the women. Both appeared to be older, their hair was graying and their bodies seemed to sag with an exhaustion that was far reaching. –_

Harry didn't know where this sudden flash came from, but he was thankful for it as he looked around. Since he thought it was home, the wards transferred. He looked around, so how would one go about the task of allowing access to the wards?

**.oOo.**

Elsewhere, a silver instrument that was intended only to give a single warning, and that warning was one that the owner never hoped to receive, started giving a small beeping noise. The noise steadily grew in volume until the owner deactivated it.

The Wards over Number Four Privet Drive had fallen!

**.oOo.**

"Can you feel it?" The snake-man asked the other man. "The place where the Potter-brat had lived have finally fallen or been taken down." The snake-man's voice suddenly took on a tone of frustration, longing, and fury. "And I can do nothing about it."

"DAMN YOU DUMBLEDORE!" The snake-man yelled at the ceiling.

The other man just whimpered in the corner.

**.oOo.**

"Well, you see Hermione." Missus Granger said. "Your father was trying to get rid of all evidence that you were a Wizard while we were moving. We didn't want the Richardson's to suspect anything, so we had to get rid of them." Her voice, normally warm and inviting, was cold and dispassionate.

"We needed to get rid of them. We placed them in a cardboard box and originally placed them in the basement, trying to remove them from sight, but we felt drawn to the box more and more. So, your father gave it the big heave-ho." Missus Granger sighed. "I'm sorry Hermione, but the photos are gone."

Hermione just stood there, stock still, shocked to silence. "But…But…But, what about those that I'd charmed to remain still?"

"People would wonder about the robes. I'm sorry Hermione, they're gone." Her mother's voice could be interpreted as victorious or as sad, either seemed to fit the mood.

"Don't you…Didn't…MUM!" Hermione sputtered. "They are my only friends, don't you or Dad get it?" She was furious. "I want those photos over the summer so that I can see my friends every day, but you two don't seem to grasp that!"

Hermione, too enraged to speak civilly to her mother, turned on her heel and walked upstairs to her room of all of two hours or less and fell on the bed, crying into the pillow. Sure, they were only pictures, but they were pictures of the two most important people in her life, her best friends. The two people who really understood her.

It was then that she decided what she'd do.

She, Hermione Granger, would break the rules, she would run away!

_It seemed like such an easy thing to do at the time_ She thought to herself for possibly the five hundredth time that night. _Just push my trunk down the stairs without being noticed, open the door and push my trunk through. Get it to the front walk and call the Knight Bus._

But, then the problems started and the Demon Murphy got involved. Her mother had noticed the odd "_Clunk, clunk_" noise of the trunk being pushed down the stairs, but dismissed it as Hermione trying to bring down her trunk to explain to her father just who these Harry Potter and Ron Weasley people were. But, after she heard the front door open and not close for a while, she got suspicious.

Missus Granger interdicted her daughter outside, before she got to the front walk, but was rudely pushed aside as her daughter charged ahead, to try and be with her best friend. To spend time with the one person who knew her best.

She just looked on as her daughter walked to the front walk and extended her wand, then jumped as she heard a noise like a shotgun firing and jumped again as she noticed her daughter get aboard an invisible conveyance and disappear with her trunk.

She never noticed the lone tear that traveled down her daughter's cheek at her actions but, as somebody had put it years earlier, you don't change horses in the middle of the river.

She only hoped she was doing the right thing. _If there is a God, just give me a sign!_ She prayed fervently.

Some green sparks exploded in the distance.

**.oOo.**

She got off the Knight Bus after paying the fare to the Conductor –Stan she believed he was called. Looking around she noticed that the air had a slightly salty taste to it. She also noticed the crash of water on rocks as she pressed ahead, searching for the place where her best friend was staying.

She looked around and was surprised when she looked to her left. There was a lone house that was surrounded by pillars of violet light that curved around the house to meet atop the house and fly away into the sky, where it eventually disappeared. She noticed three people lying sprawled on the ground and was surprised to see somebody rush out of the house and kneel down on the ground. She heard him, for it was definitely a he, mutter something in a hiss of a voice, she couldn't make it out, but was pretty sure that it was Parseltongue.

Three large explosions of yellow light bombarded the surrounding areas with light bright enough to rival a nuclear explosion. In the light she could make out the distinctive black hair and green eyes of her best friend, Harry Potter.

"Hello Hermione." He said, his eyes latching on to her. "Fancy seeing you here."

**.oOo.**

"Yesterday, at approximately nine-thirty PM a large explosion was seen. This explosion was made entirely out of yellow light, but there was no damage in the surrounding area. Earlier, residents have reported a pillar of purple light shooting up from a totally random area." The newscaster's face then turned to look down at her papers. "Other reports…" That was the only wizarding relevant piece of news the next day, and in true wizarding fashion, every wizard in Europe missed it.

**.oOo.**

"If you really are a God." Dumbledore said. "Tell me what I'm thinking at this very moment." _There is no way you can be a God._ He thought to himself.

He never felt the tendril of thought that connected with his own mind before the deep voice that came out of every where and yet nowhere say. _'You were praying about me, more specifically you were saying that there is no way I could be a God.' _ The voice became stern. _'There is a heaven and a hell Mister Dumbledore, decide where you want to go.'_

If Dumbledore had turned to look at the Phoenix that occupied the perch in his office he would've seen the closest thing to a satisfied smirk on its face. _'I'm sorry Mister Dumbledore, but this façade must end. I am Fawkes as you have named me.'_ The voice said again.

_At least I can give a name to it!_ Dumbledore sighed.

_'You have long exceeded your bounds as a Wizard. It is time for me to leave you. I am going to go to the Wizard and Witch who were the reason that I was sent to this chunk of earth you call Earth.'_ With a flash of flame, the Phoenix disappeared from the perch and, seconds later, reappeared on the desk. Then, after tearing up the envelope that Dumbledore had kept the letter he was going to send to Hermione in, the Phoenix disappeared again.

Dumbledore's hands flew up to his forehead, and he started to write in pain. "Oh, God!" He screamed in his agony. His hand flew to the emerald set in the arm of the Headmasters' Chair. "Poppy!" He managed to choke out before he fell to the ground.

He only hoped that it had been enough.

**.oOo.**

His voice changed, it was a little more breathless, a little deeper, and a little stronger. At least, that's what Hermione thought. Though, to be fair, changing wards takes more then the average person would think, so it was a testament to Harry's raw magical power that he was able to stand up, much less talk, after the huge change he'd just committed to the wards.

"Hello, Harry." Hermione said, before looking back at the house, and the painfully bright light beside it. "Do you think you could house me for the summer?"

Her voice was hopeful, though she'd never admit it, yet she fully expected a negative answer.

"Harry looked pensive for a moment before his eyes brightened. "Sirius would probably love to have you here!" He exclaimed, before covering his mouth and looking around kind of sheepishly.

Hermione gratefully hugged him before gesturing to her trunk. "A little help here." She said.

Harry laughed and picked up an end of the trunk, and with a trunk between them, the two friends marched off towards the house. Their bodies silhouetted with bright yellow light.

**A/N:** I hope this redo of the Third Chapter is up to everybody's liking. I know I certinly liked it more then the original version.

Thanks for reading!

Eldar


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four 

Poppy Pomphrey reacted to the call with all her training. It was a testament to her training that she reacted so promptly, many other, lesser, healers would've had to double- and triple-check their bag before leaving, but Pomphrey only had to pick up her bag and leave the door, she was _that _good.

She sped up the corridors separating the Hospital Wing and the Headmasters' Quarters, her feet propelling her much faster then any student had ever seen her run, even when Harry had fallen the fifty feet from his broom. Her robes billowing out behind her, she arrived at the Headmasters' Quarters without any significant loss of breath.

"Open." She said bluntly to the Gargoyle guarding the stairs leading to the office that was occupied to the Headmasters of Hogwarts.

The Gargoyle jumped aside and beckoned Pomphrey forwards, up the stairs. As she ran up the stairs, she was surprised to see that once she was in the office, she moved much faster than she normally would have as she walked (sprinted) to the Headmaster currently sprawled out on the floor around his desk.

She kneeled down beside him and brought out her wand. She frantically ran every diagnostic spell she could think of and then added in a few minor anti-trauma spells that came to mind.

Albus Dumbledore couldn't be dead…He just couldn't! After all, whom else would the Light turn to? Who else would appease the House-Elves during the winter and summer months when nobody was around Hogwarts Castle for them to serve? Who else would keep the students safe from anyone of the various dark creatures that roamed the Forbidden Forest and other areas? Who else would she turn to when she needed help?

Albus Dumbledore _had_ to survive! Even if it was the last thing she did. Even if she failed, she needed to have at least have _tried_! If the greatest Wizard of the modern era will die, it would not be from lack of effort on her part!

That, she swore with the utmost fervour.

**.oOo.**

Together, the two friends ambled towards the 'cottage' that Sirius had bought, talking all the way and hardly noticing the weight of the trunk held between them. After a few minutes of this, they arrived at the doorway to the house, which Harry immediately held open for Hermione and the trunk to pass through, himself darting though quickly afterwards.

They walked towards the kitchen, where Harry assumed Sirius and Remus had located themselves. They were not disappointed when they saw the two old friends talking meaningfully by the stove, a pot of some pasta left to its own devices on the aforementioned stove.

"Hello Hermione." Remus said quietly when he noticed his best student he'd ever had -not that there had been many to choose from though.

Hermione nodded in reply, but Sirius beat Remus to the point.

"So, Harry." He said genially. "Where did you learn to modify wards?" He asked conversationally, and, to the untrained eye or ear, unthreateningly.

Harry looked around nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well… Um… Err…" He said, trying to start his sentence without having any success. "You won't believe me." He warned them before giving a small, sharp whistle.

At the noise, a magnificent bird appeared, coloured in red and gold the bird landed on Harry's shoulder, eyeing Hermione thoughtfully while ruffling his feather's regally.

"You wouldn't have believed me if I told you." Harry said to the two sputtering adults, who just remained in their original spots, gaping at the magnificent bird. "I ran into your bird in the library when I was searching for Ward Modification and he showed me where the Ward Modification book was. After I complained about how I couldn't understand any of what the author was trying to say, your bird jumped on my shoulder, and all I could think of was an icy knife plunging into my mind." Remus and Sirius looked between each other here, they knew that description. "A voice then explained it in very simple terms. I needed to tell the wards what to do in a language apart from English, as they're very old wards and can't understand English." At Sirius and Remus's exchanged perplexed looks he shrugged. "I don't get it either. So, I used the one that I could get at quickest, Parseltongue. §See§. Sirius and Remus jumped away from Harry at the snake language, but Hermione looked at him queerly.

"But, can't you not just speak Parseltongue?" She asked. "Don't you need some sort of snake stimuli?"

"Good question Hermione." Harry said. "I thought I needed a snake too. But, I don't anymore. That, or," he turned to the bird perched regally on his shoulder, "this bird has something to do with it."

The mentioned bird preened unconcernedly and Harry laughed softly.

Hermione frowned to herself and filed the information away for future use.

"Harry." Sirius said carefully. "That's not my bird." He looked carefully at the bird before jumping back in surprise. "That's professor Dumbledore's bird." He was interrupted, however, by a voice that seemed to come out of everywhere and yet nowhere.

_'I BELONG TO NOBODY!'_

The voice was deep, powerful and seemed like it should resonate, yet it did not. The voice just seemed to die out like it never was; no echo, no reverberation, nothing, it just started and stopped.

"Did you just hear that?" Sirius asked after a moment's pause.

The rest of the small group nodded, Harry looking at the bird curiously. "You don't think?" He asked after a moment.

"That's exactly what I think." Sirius said, not knowing that Harry was talking to the bird, before turning to face the bird. "What are you doing here?" The question in itself was not inflammatory, but the tone of voice used was not an especially endearing one.

The bird on Harry's shoulder just looked down his beak at Sirius, a look of royal disdain on his beak, of such a thing was possible. The bird then jumped off Harry's shoulder and took to the air, his majestic wings finally spreading to their full length, their bright gold's and crimson's getting the full effect of the conveniently sun-like magical lighting.

Sirius whistled, impressed by the display of majesty, and, with the rest of the group, followed the bird out of the room.

_'Watch out, Fawkes.'_ Harry told the bird he'd become joined with through his mind, the sensation quiet unnatural feeling to him. He shuddered, he couldn't help it, it felt just too damn unnatural. That meant a lot too, he hardly ever swore. _'I don't know what they'll do to you.'_

_'Got it, chief.'_ Fawkes responded his deep voice cheeky.

_'Jolly joker.'_

With his parting shot taken care of, Harry carefully schooled his face blank and tried to look mildly interested as Sirius and Remus carried on a conversation with Hermione and him.

The bird landed on the oven and started preening, his eyes alight with mirth as the group just milled about, not knowing what to do.

_'IT'S CALLED EATING'_

The voice sounded again and again Sirius and Remus' heads turned so quickly towards Fawkes that Harry was sure that they had a strong crick in them. And, he had to stifle a laugh.

Sirius looked down at the food he'd been preparing and was surprised to see it totally unaffected by the wards being transferred and the forceful ejection of him and Remus. Shrugging, he took the bread, and the large pot of soup he'd been adding carrots to before he was forcibly removed from his cooking duties, and moved them over to the large table that was set up in the dining room.

The table was made of a nice oak, it was given a good finish and it appeared to be of the same piece of wood, not many smaller ones pieced together. However, one couldn't see this as it was covered with a gaudy table cloth that had a Halloween theme going on –which surprised Harry, until he thought about what Halloween was to him and then what it looked like to Muggles- and that was covered by many pot holders. Sitting the food down on the table, Sirius and Remus both started piling the foods on their plates and then started eating. Harry and Hermione, however, did not.

"What?" Asked Sirius through a mouthful of soup and bread, his voice sounding rather muffled.

"You forgot something." Hermione said pointedly. Harry, who knew Hermione's habits, winced at the realisation that Remus and Sirius probably weren't as strict as Hermione was, provided they even were practising, and were likely going to get an earful about disrespecting the maker, or something to that respect.

"What?" Sirius choked out before Remus's elbow jabbed him in the ribs, hard.

"Grace." Remus said.

"What's your old flame have to do with anything?"

"Not that Grace. You know, you say Grace before you eat." Remus said, chastised.

"Grace." Sirius said, before going back to his eating, forcing Hermione to groan into her hands.

**.oOo.**

The wards at Privet Drive were gone, and, thus, the relatively quiet life that the Dursleys had been enjoying for the past thirteen years of their life. However, this all changed once the wards had been transferred to the residence of Sirius Black. At the feel of being able to apparate to a forbidden residence, the many journalists of the Wizarding world all disappeared from where ever they were, no matter where they were or what they were doing, and appeared in the front lawn of the once peaceful residence of one Mister Vernon Dursley, who had been looking forward to a nice relaxing evening. That quixotic dream disappeared once the newsies appeared.

"Is this the residence of Harry Potter?"

"Is it true that you treat Harry Potter like royalty?"

"Can you give us an exclusive interview with Harry Potter?"

"Do you consider Harry Potter –"

"GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!"

The last, of course, came from Mister Dursley after the journalists started bombarding him with numerous questions about his nephew that, if he'd had his way, he would've abandoned in a very remote area with only the clothes on his back.

Not that the goddamn freaks would've let him.

**.oOo.**

The Newsies weren't the only ones to feel the falling of the wards surrounding Number Four Privet Drive; the remaining Death Eaters who had once claimed that they were not still loyal to the Dark Lord felt it.

Lucius Malfoy, the head of the house Malfoy and, quite possibly, the most highly trusted Death Eater of the lot of them felt the disturbance, and smiled. He would kill the Potter-brat and, in the same stroke, show his loyalty to his long-dead master.

It would be perfect; daring, terror inducing, and easy. He would just apparate to Number Four Privet Drive and blast the Potter-brat with the killing curse. Boom! It would be done quickly, and quietly. He would then shout out the Dark Mark curse as he apparated away.

He disappeared from his manor with a small _pop_.

**.oOo.**

The Newsies were not to be dissuaded from their mission to learn about the home life of Harry Potter, they were currently camped out in front of the lawn that the Dursleys were proud of. They were split along lines of where they worked, there were the Freelancers on one side, the _Daily Prophet _workers on another, the _Quibbler_ workers on yet another, and the Assorted Smaller Paper's workers on a final side. They were all quite adept with their wands, having to break into many homes in order to get the latest scoop or having to defend themselves from the occasional victim of libel would demand satisfaction on the field of honour.

None of them were up to the level of a Death Eater, but _en masse _they were a force to be reckoned with, and it was that workers of _The Daily Prophet_ found themselves fighting back to back with workers from _The Quibbler_ against a lone Death Eater.

"_Stupfy!_" Cried a journalist as another cried "_Reducto!_" and yet another cried out "_Impedmentia!_" The three spells lanced out and hit the Death Eater in the chest and in the head at the same time.

First, the Death Eater stopped in place, looking slightly bewildered, then he started falling backwards –due to the stunner- finally, his head was blown off –totally annihilated, more like- in a small cloud of blood and gray matter.

Later inspection of the body found him to be the Lord Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy.

His funds are currently under investigation by investigative aurors.

**.oOo.**

After the meal, Harry started putting the plates away by instinct, his hands reaching out and grabbing their edges in a well-practiced maneuver. He missed the look that passed between Remus and Sirius at this along with the small sigh of contempt from the corner. As he walked towards the kitchen with the stack of four plates and their utensils, he heard Sirius trying to tune the wireless.

"…Lucius…A Death Eater…Former…Of Harry Potter…Actions are going to be taken against the Malfoy family in the near future. So says the office of Amelia Bones, head of the DMLE." The voice slipped in and out of static until Sirius had the wireless tuned in.

Harry heard enough to put it all together. Lucius Malfoy attacked Privet Drive in full Death Eater regalia, was killed by something –_Most likely a gun Dudley sneaked in the house_, Harry thought wryly- and action was finally going to be taken against the Malfoy family, though Draco was probably going to just buy them off like his father did.

He felt an immense feeling of guilt, like a giant weight pushing down on his shoulders. Though, it was given a bite by the grief he felt, however fleeting, for the Dursleys death.

Harry continued through the chores that he was so used to doing, trying to hide from the guilt in the menial labor, a tactic that had served him well in the past. He tried to hide from the crushing guilt as one would a particularly nasty animal that one had the great misfortune of annoying, hiding behind the rocks and hoping that it was dumb enough to think that one had left and turned around.

Harry did the dishes by hand, a technique that he'd found oddly calming. He then cleaned the silverware by hand, and was on his way cleaning the pots and pans that Sirius had used to make the stew in by hand before he was drawn away from his tasks by Hermione, who'd decided that he'd done enough.

She led him to the living room and made him sit on the couch, she sat down next to him and was silent for a few moments. Then, forced to look at his guilt and –albeit small- grief full in the face for the first time that day, he started crying. Not just your normal cry, but a full blown, dammit-that-hurts-like-a-big-dog-get-me-medical-attention-right-the-bloody-hell-now-my-mother-died-just-minutes-earlier-too!-cry, not that many people have those in their lifetimes.

He just sat there and cried, he wasn't particularly loud about it, just silent tears that ran down his cheeks and his face was very flushed. When Hermione opened up her arms to him, he almost leapt into them, holding her tight, he continued to cry, but on somebody's shoulder this time.

After what seemed like hours, his grip finally relented. "Want to talk about it?" Hermione asked kindly, not in the least disturbed by her overly wet shoulder.

"No…" Harry said weakly. "I shouldn't be guilty about their deaths really, but I got them into this, and now? They're dead." He gave a hollow laugh, and Hermione found herself thinking that he was older then he looked or was. "But, dammit! Lucius was obviously after me, but he killed my Aunt and Uncle before he was able to be killed himself." Hermione did not appear to be flustered at all by the profanity that escaped his lips, it seemed proper at the time. "I just hope-" But, whatever he hoped was cut off by some clearing of the throat by Sirius that sounded similar to the former Professor Umbridge's fake cough.

Harry jumped up, wand drawn, before he remembered where he was, and who he was supposed to be. He sheepishly put away his wand and looked up at Sirius questioningly. "Yes?"

"Are you all done here?" Sirius asked. "Because I would really like to use my couch that I bought." The slight stresses on the word 'I' did not go unnoticed by anybody.

Harry extended a hand to Hermione –who took it- and pulled her up. He then gestured to the couch with an exaggerated bow. "All yours, milord." He said in a fake aristocratic voice.

"Thank you." Sirius said, satisfied. He then walked over to the couch, lay down on it, and fell asleep within minutes.

"Wow." Hermione said, surprised that _anybody_ could fall asleep that quickly.

"Yeah." Said Harry, just to not be contrary, his guilt still coursing though his veins, but not as violently as before. He made to move away, but Hermione grabbed his arm, tightly.

"You know where the library is?" She asked him.

"First Floor." Said a tired voice from the couch.

"Thank you." Hermione said as she ran from the Living Room up the stairs to –presumably- the library.

Harry sighed and followed, not that he had a choice, Hermione was still gripping his arm tightly.

**.oOo.**

Bedtime had come blessedly early, the night permeating the house and making it darker then ink was black. Harry had found his way to his bedroom, which he complained about being too nice. He thought it nicer then his Hogwarts four poster, and, in fact, it was an almost exact replica of it.

Finally relaxing, Harry still felt the guilt, but it was somehow kept at bay. He allowed himself to slip into a fitful sleep and closed his eyes.

I stand in the Department of Mysteries corridor. It is familiar to me, I know this place. I walk along the corridor, trying to make it to the door. My breath pounding in my ears, I push no the door…It doesn't open.

_I pound on the door…It must open, it must!_

_**FLASH**_

_I stand in my bedroom at Number Four Privet Drive, my arm is outstretched, trying to reach…_

_"Its your fault that we're dead…" My Uncle whispers insidiously. "If it weren't for you, I would still be alive, Dudley would still be alive, and Petunia would still be alive."_

_I hear him drawing something out of his pockets, a second later I feel the metal end of a belt hit me in the posterior._

_I scream._

"Harry? Harry?" He heard the voice as if from a long way off. Swimming his way to consciousness, Harry tried to bring himself to the present. He latched onto the voice and hoped to find himself in his bedroom when he awoke.

"Harry? You'd better wake up, otherwise…I don't know what I'll do but you'll regret it!" He could here fear in her voice, but he couldn't think of why…His mind was too slow.

"Urgh…" He managed to say before he was hugged tightly, forcing the breath out of him. "Hermione?" He said in a sort of strangled voice.

"Oh…Sorry." She said, abashed. "You were writhing and thrashing in your sleep…Are you okay?"

"I am now." Harry said, looking unconsciously over to his dresser where he knew Fawkes to be…Except he wasn't there.

"Do you know where Fawkes is?"

_'YOU CALLED?_' An immense voice rang out in the silence, dying away without a sound.

"Yes, Fawkes." Harry said tiredly. "Could you somehow keep the dreams away, tonight?" Harry asked the bird.

'That'll take time.' Fawkes said quietly. 'I could, but not tonight. Just live with them!'

"Just thought I'd ask." Harry said, shrugging.

The bird flew up to the dresser and landed there, every serene, looking down on the world with a sort of regal disdain. Harry looked up at the bird for a long minute before lying back down. He then turned down the flames that lit the room and fell asleep.

Hermione, worried about Harry –and too tired to do anything- grabbed her blanket from where she'd left it on the floor and curled up atop of Harry's bed, her blanket covering her.

That was how Sirius found the next morning.

**.oOo.**

"Tell me, Wormtail." The Snake-Man wheezed. "Is it true…Is Lucius dead?"

"Yes…Yes, milord. The man thought that he'd show that he was still loyal to you by killing the Potter-brat." Wormtail took a moment to organize his thoughts. "I do not believe that he knew that you were alive."

"Ah, Wormtail…You are a nice comic distraction when times are at their roughest." The Snake-Man sighed.

"Oh no, milord. Not that!"

"_Crucio!_"

**.oOo.**

"Harry! Hermione!" Sirius called up the stairwell at promptly 6:30AM, only to receive no answer. "Harry! Hermione!" He repeated. "Hmmm…Must still be sleeping." He decided.

Sirius walked up the stairs that led to the second floor and called again. "Harry! Hermione!" Still, nothing.

Sirius decided to wake Harry first, seeing as he _was_ his Godson.

Imagine his surprise when he saw the two teens lying down in the same bed, somewhat curled up together. "Don't panic, Padfoot…Don't panic!" He said to himself. "Don't Panic…"

He looked down at the two teens and did just that.

"WHAT IN THE NAME OF MERLIN!" He shouted. "ARE YOU TWO THINKING!"

That woke Harry, who looked around groggily before doing a double take at the appearance of his best friend. "What? Sirius!?" The last was an exclamation of joy as he saw his godfather. He then looked down at the sleeping form of his best friend and gently shook her shoulder.

"Hermione…Hermione…" He said. "It's time to wake up!" He said the last part anxiously, knowing what it _must_ look like to his Godfather. "Wake. Up." He said very clearly, right next to her ear.

"Don' wanna." She said tiredly.

"I really didn't want to do this." Harry sighed before bringing his hands to bear and started tickling her mercilessly. This had the desired effect and woke her up. Through her laughter, half-hearted attempts to retaliate, and her attempts to figure out why she was: A, sharing a bed with her best friend. And B, sharing a home with Sirius and company, she fended off Harry enough to point out that she was fully awake, he could stop now.

Harry complied, leaving Hermione to wonder where he'd learned where she was ticklish, but banishing that thought for later.

"Who are you?" Sirius said, turning to Harry, suspicion clear in his voice.

"Harry James Potter, your Godson." Harry said, clearly at a loss as to why Sirius was so suspicious.

"Really." Sirius said conversationally.

"Yes." Harry said.

"Then, explain to me what a thirteen year old boy would be doing in bed with a member of the female persuasion. There is no way that you would be doing _that_." Sirius said the last part with a shudder, obviously thinking it some great sin if two friend who were of the opposite gender slept on the same bed.

"Well…" Harry said, his words trailing off. "You wouldn't believe me, but I had a nightmare."

"Yes, that's how most of this starts." Sirius said with the air of a pre-school teacher explaining to a class that red and blue are two different colors.

"Then, when I woke up, I saw that Hermione was in my room, evidently I had woken her. I was told that I was thrashing in my sleep and she was worried."

"Yes, that's also a major factor in this sort of thing too." Said Sirius with the same annoyingly patient air.

"Well, I fell asleep not a two minutes after waking up. Then, I woke up just now and I was surprised to see her there!" Harry finished.

"Likely story." Sirius drawled.

"What?"

At this point Hermione, feeling sorry for him, took him aside and whispered in his ear. Harry turned very red indeed after that. "He thinks that we…" His voice trailed off again.

"Yep." Hermione said, red also.

Harry almost laughed, he would've if he was his fifteen-year old self in his familiar surroundings, but he didn't think that a thirteen-year old just laughing about that would be taken kindly.

Just then, Remus Lupin walked in the door, holding his _Daily Prophet_ in one hand he chanced to look in, and then put two and two together. Remus hurried to come in and help out Sirius.

It just seemed that the Morning at Sirius's 'Cottage' was getting off to a rough start.

**A/N:** _So sorry that I didn't update until now. I've been away from home __**a ton**__ these past few weeks, and I've been playing (as well as modding) Knights of the Old Republic a lot more as well. That, coupled with my muse being away on an indefinite leave of absence, has made it impossible for me to complete this in a timely manner. You will notice that this is the last chapter in the story so far. I deleted the after chapters, since I'm going to go back and re-do the rest of the story. So, this is where it is at. Past readers (I'm looking at you, Pstibbons, You too, Raven6) will notice differences with this and the previously uploaded version. _

_I'm sorry to say that my updates will, hopefully, pick up after School starts. Call me crazy, but I type more during the school year._

_It's been almost a year, and here it is, only in the 4__th__ chapter, how does that make __**ANY**__ sense? If I could get off my arse and write more…But that's just crazy talk._

_If anybody would be willing to Beta this story that would be greatly appreciated. I also will need a brit-picker, God only knows how many mistakes I've made with this story. So, if somebody would be willing to do any of said roles, please PM me, or e-mail me._

_Thanks for your patience and cooperation,_

_Eldar._

**Post Script:** _Thanks to both Pstibbons and Raven6, and the rest of the readers who've reviewed and/or been with the story since near its inception. Without your reviews, I don't think I would've gone through and redone it._


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five 

**SPOILER WARNINGS FOR DEATHLY HALLOWS ARE IN THIS CHAPTER! YOU ARE WARNED!**

After a thoroughly embarrassing discussion with Remus and Sirius, Harry and Hermione decided to spend the day relaxing…Well, Harry decided to spend the day in a relaxing manner, he had to convince Hermione to do it though. Which, sadly, was easier said then done, which actually meant a lot since it was hard to even dare suggest to Hermione Jane Granger that you could take a day off from school work, even on the first day of the Summer Holidays.

And so, after spending an impossibly long time convincing Hermione of this fact, Harry found himself spending time being a somewhat normal teenager, albeit a teenager whose…soul? Mind? Was older then his body. Harry found himself talking with his Godfather, trying to assuage the wound that he'd been sporting ever since Sirius's death in the Veil.

"I really shouldn't be telling you this," Sirius was saying after Harry had told him about the Headmaster's actions before his leaving Hogwarts, "but you know that the Headmaster and Grindelward were once friends?" Harry looked at Sirius in sheer disbelief. "Yes. Lily, your mum, had sent me a letter about it earlier." He started rummaging through a pack he had. "No. I don't have it on me." He turned to face Harry again. "But, Dumbledore had lived in Godrics Hallow, and once Grindelward had visited, they were evidently friends. But something had happened." Sirius shrugged.

Sadly, Harry didn't pursue this line of questioning, as it would later to be something useful to learn about. But, Harry still wanted to believe in the Dumbledore he'd been taught about, the Dumbledore who hadn't been anything but good, and dropped it.

He'd promptly banished the thought from his hand, and, in the words of the Beatles, Let it be.

**.oOo.**

The Man from MI-5's name was actually Michael Cross, he preferred being called Mike, but would answer to Michael. He'd been in MI-5 for close to five years, and was still where he wanted to be. He didn't make much as a government servant, but he came from old money, so it didn't affect his standard of living as much as it could.

He was one of the few people in the world cursed with a perfect memory, and as such could remember details that most people would consider trivial or insignificant. He was also a naturally inquisitive man, when a mystery revealed itself, Mike Cross was usually trying to figure it out, either as part of his job or as part of his hobby.

As it was, Michael Cross burst into the Director's Office at 5:30 AM the next day, his suit and tie –he found it inappropriate for somebody in his job to wear anything but- slightly unkempt looking from his run to the office. "Sir." He said, slightly breathless. "I have something that you might want to see."

"Cross?" The Director answered in his gravelly voice that was further injured by his years of chain smoking. "You've violated SOP."

After a moment for proper chastisement, Cross opened his mouth again. "Remember the case that they give you in basic training about the guy who disappeared from his home in Germany in World War Two?"

"Yes." The Director said in a bored tone. "That case is impossible to solve, much like the Thomas case or the Potter case." He gave the names of the cases that were the bane of the Agency.

"But, I have the answer." Cross withdrew the Chocolate Frog card from his inside pocket and handed it to the director.

"What the hell is this?"

Cross smiled.

**.oOo.**

Dumbledore hadn't stirred for the past five hours, thought Pomphrey bleakly. That was a rather negative sign. If somebody suffering from shock didn't move in five hours or so, that was a sign of the nearness of Death.

Oh, she'd heard about the people who came close to dying, but that was just stories about the impossible, the thing that people would lust over. She didn't set any store by the stories and grimly set about the task of pouring some potion in the Headmaster's blue lips.

He just had to survive!

**.oOo.**

"What do you mean, Magic!" The Director raged. "There is no way in _hell_ that such a thing exists!" He looked down at his desk in clear dismissal. "And Cross."

"Yes, sir?"

"Please schedule a proper meeting next time!"

Cross walked out of the Director's Office, fuming at his boss's inability to believe in such a simple concept as Magic.

Cross was not as normal as you were led to believe earlier…He was a muggle, yes, but he was a muggle whose sister had been chosen to go to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He _knew_ that Magic existed, but he did not know the name Albus Dumbledore…Which was a sore gap in his knowledge.

He'd heard about the eccentric Headmaster at Hogwarts, so he now had both a name and a face to place to the stories his Sister had told.

But, his sister had been placed in a Mental Asylum after she accidentally let it slip that she went to a school that taught Magic. That was enough to shake Cross and make him believe that his Sister had just dreamt the entire thing, until now.

No, now he knew that his sister wasn't insane. He knew who Dumbledore was, and he _knew_ just how the man in Germany died during World War Two. Just like he knew how both Thomas and the Potters had been killed.

Magic.

**.oOo.**

_I am in __**her**__ office again, the annoying kittens looking down at me. "Well, Mister Potter." She says looking at me with her toad-like eyes. "You know what you're to do."_

_She's right, I do. I look at the paper, there's no ink. No, it cannot be! I reach over to the sinister quill on the desk, right atop the paper. I grip the quill in my hands roughly, not caring if I break it. I then haunch over my paper and start my writing._

_I must not tell lies._

_I write it out quickly and it looks like my usual writing, except it's in my blood. I look over at my hand. Scarred into it is: I MUST NOT TELL LIES._

He woke up in a flurry of movement. His breath was coming in short gasps, and he felt up at his scar. Harry Potter reached over to his nightstand and put on his glasses, placing the room into a somewhat sharper relief, though it was still dark.

"_Lumos_" He whispered, gripping his wand. The room lit up and he looked down at his hands, expecting to see the unscarred skin that had been there since the incident in the Shrieking Shack.

Scarred in, where the words: _I must not tell lies_.

He screamed.

**.oOo.**

I stand in the middle of a courtyard, it's at Hogwarts. I am wearing my usual black Hogwarts Robes and I feel like my usual self in them. I turn and find Harry and Ron, my best friends of three years looking at me.

_"Hermione?" Ron asks._

_"Yes?"_

_"Why are you still here in the Wizarding World?" He asks without malice in his voice._

_"Why am I still here?" I ask, uncomprehendingly._

_"Yeah." Ron confirms. I look over and Harry and see him looking very uncomfortable. His green eyes that any girl (Except me, of course) could get lost in were hooded, and his smile seemed faked._

_"Maybe because I'm a witch." I say with the patience reserved for telling a kindergartener that two plus two equalled four, not twenty-two._

_"No you're not." Ron says, looking at me. "You're nothing but a mudblood!" His voice is nasty, now._

_I run to the other corner of the courtyard, but it gets smaller and smaller. Being blinded by tears and deafened by my racking sobs, I can't hear Harry chastising Ron for his rudeness…_

She woke up, her breath still staying normal. She'd had this dream for the past week, what did it mean? She was still trying to figure it out, like she did every night, when a small flash of flames appeared on her dresser.

_Harry_, she thought,_ probably wondering if I'm okay._

She looked around at the magnificent bird sitting on top of her dresser, her eyes magically adapting to the dark.

She hesitantly reached out a hand to the bird perched on of the dresser. Her hand made contact with the birds hand and she felt an icy knife pierce through her thoughts…She had to warn Harry! There was a Dark Wizard in the house with an animagus form of a Phoenix.

_"…and all I could think of was an icy knife plunging into my mind."_

Harry had had it happen to him too! Maybe…Just maybe, it was part of the Phoenix bonding process…But _that_ meant that Harry was bound to Fawkes, and her! That did not happen! It simply did not!

She did not fight the icy knife as it plunged even deeper into her mind, she even showed it where to go and how to go there. She just stood by and let the pain join another portion of her mind.

She now felt a dividing wall in her mind, she did not know where it came, but she wanted a full and complete mind, not a mind with blocks in it. She began working at it. And, little did she know it, the Icy Knife started chipping away at it too. Little by little, the wall in her mind fell away, and was replaced by a vast openness. Now, her mind was…Complete?

NO! Horror surged through her! She no longer had a full and complete mind! It was, _joined_ with another through the phoenix, and now…Now, there was but one mind, and two separate entities, Harry and Hermione.

She felt Harry's dream…She felt the horror rise in him as he looked down at his hand, and she reacted before she even heard the scream.

She'd figure out how to deal with this mess latter.

**.oOo.**

Dumbledore gave a small little jerk. It would've gone unnoticed unless one was actively searching for it. The twitch would've been considered trivial in a normal person, except for the fact that Albus Dumbledore hadn't made a movement in the past twelve hours. Now, he started to move again.

No one saw this movement. It also would go unnoticed until Poppy Pomphrey came to check in on her patient.

If only it had been noticed.

**.oOo.**

Sirius was surprised when he saw Harry and Hermione in the same bed, the next morning. He was even more surprised when he saw Hermione looking at Harry in a more tender way than she had been looking at him before. But the thing that took the cake was the way that the two interacted with each other. They were working on a totally different level then most people in the world worked, they would know to do something before asked by the other, when the one needed something, the other would go and grab it before even asked.

Sirius was trying to decide which of them he was going to kill when he found them just sitting in the family room. Harry reading a book on…_Ancient Runes!?!_ And Hermione was lounging in the leather armchair that Harry had taken an instant liking to.

Sirius hadn't reached a decision about who he was going to kill by the next week, that morning the two had been blissfully found in their own beds, and was going to give up when he chanced to walk into the Family Room. He saw Harry reading a book on Arithmancy (Sirius had long given up on being surprised on what Harry was reading) and taking some notes at the same time, as if he had a two-track mind.

Sirius was closer to the truth then he had ever dreamed that he would be. A byproduct of the "joining", as Fawkes would refer to it, was the ability for the two of them to use any appendage of the other as if it was their own. So, Hermione was taking notes on the book while Harry was reading it. As close to a two-track mind as one could get.

As it was, Sirius just decided to leave them alone.

**.oOo.**

Harry was reading the book while Hermione was taking notes on what he read. It was the most curious sensation, but it seemed, at the same time, the most natural thing in the world to do. He was able to retain the information as well, he could remember the book's contents, well, the _important_ contents, almost word-for-word.

It was interesting, he thought, that the subjects he was going to replace his Divination class with, were Arithmancy or Ancient Runes, or both. He felt as though he should just take both, seeing that he had an edge. He, it seemed, had somehow inherited Hermione's amazing ability to read books fast and still recall exacting details about them.

They'd spent most of yesterday morning discussing what had happened to them, and, it seemed, that both were as okay with it as they could be…

Sure, it wasn't perfect, what if they dated? What if they dated other people? What if they hated each other? And, seeing as this hadn't ever happened before, they'd had to set a few ground rules. Which suited Harry just fine.

After Hermione had sent Hedwig –who had nipped Hermione's ear affectionately just like she did Harry- off to Flourish and Blotts to ask for a book on Phoenixes, Hermione had started to give Harry a lesson in Ancient Runes, which proved ineffective as Harry had been 'stealing' the answers from her mind. They'd both realized this and stopped the lesson. Then, Hermione had wondered about importing and exporting thoughts to the other…

A few minutes later and Harry had the entire third year lessons of Ancient Runes and Arithmancy under his belt. Then, Harry started reading the homework book for Ancient Runes.

Had Sirius bothered to look closely at the book, he would've noticed that it was not written in English. Nor was it written in French, Spanish, Russian, Latin, or any other language spoken in the modern era. But, it was written in runes that were of a variant not seen in the Muggle World for several thousand years. And, the notes that Harry was taking were also written in non-Latin runes, though they were different looking.

After fifteen minutes of this, Harry had chanced a look up and saw Hermione staring out of the window, looking at the weather.

.:Perfect Quidditich conditions:. He heard her say.

.:Yeah:. He responded wistfully.

.:Okay, I relent!:. Hermione said, throwing her hands into the air.

Harry put the notes into the book and ran up to the office in the attic, which Harry had quickly claimed as his own, and placed the book on the desk. Fishing in his trunk, Harry grabbed his Firebolt and ran back down the stairs. Giving the broom to Hermione at the foot of the stairs, Harry raced her to the front door…He won.

The Wards around the house extended for fifteen meters, so they were safe as long as they didn't cross that line. Though, what happened then was anybody's guess.

Hermione mounted the broom like a natural and then kicked off the ground at breakneck speeds. Harry watched her execute several hairpin turns at the outer edge of the performance envelope of the Firebolt racing broom. After watching her take several dives, none as bad as any that he'd ever made in a Quidditich game, Harry finally relented.

.:Alright! It is uncomfortable to watch somebody else take dives and turns like that!:. Harry hollered up at her.

Grinning savagely on the broom Hermione took it for another spin around the "cottage".

Harry just groaned and started watching the sky.

**.oOo.**

"Moony." Sirius said, walking into the kitchen, where Remus was sitting at the dinner table, nursing a cup of tea. "Does Harry read a lot? Or Hermione take breaks?"

"No." Remus said, looking at his tea with concentration. "That sounds a lot like what the other would be doing. Are you sure that Harry was reading and Hermione was lounging around?"

"Yes." Sirius said. "I think I'm going crazy."

"It'll get better, Padfoot. It'll get better."

"It better."

It was then that they heard Hermione's scream of pleasure from the top of her broom. And, looking out the window, they saw he flying around on…Harry's Firebolt!

"Padfoot." Remus said. "Hermione _hates_ flying!"

"I know…It's almost like they they've been…"

"Possessed, I know."

"Oh no!" Sirius said, running out of the Kitchen and onto the grounds.

**.oOo.**

.:Hermione!:. Harry said. .:We've got company:.

In response, Hermione landed the broom that she borrowed (Read: Stole, at least that's what he maintained.) from Harry and walked over to where Harry and Sirius were talking.

Suddenly, Hermione saw Sirius pull out his wand and point its tip at Harry, who raised his hands over his head in surrender. Sirius had a serious expression on his face as he started twirling his wand in a rather complicated pattern and then said some words in a tongue that Hermione didn't recognize.

Harry looked nonplussedly at Sirius. "What was that supposed to do?" He asked.

Sirius looked back down at Harry and tried it again, this time with some more force behind the words.

Then, Sirius looked at Harry and at his wand before leveling his wand at Harry's forehead. "Harry will understand why." He said to Harry before opening his mouth again. "_Stupefy!_" Sirius said quietly, mournfully.

At the same time Hermione yelled out as she charged Sirius…But there was too much ground between Her and him. Ten meters…five meters…not even a quarter-meter…

But then all they saw was black.

**.oOo.**

"_Ennervate_" A voice said from the inky blackness.

Hermione's eyes widened as they opened, and the painfully bright light beating down on her eyes assailed her. She tried to sit up but a restraining hand on her arm held her in place. Seeing as she couldn't sit up she turned her head to the left where she saw Harry's body lying sprawled on the ground. Engraved on his left hand was "_I must not tell lies_" and she vaguely wondered where it had come from.

"Curious…Most curious." She heard her former Defense Professor say out loud. She didn't question why or what he was talking about, but instead focused on her best friend.

"What…What happened?" She managed to say through her overly dry mouth.

She saw Sirius and Lupin exchange looks before Sirius answered. "We know that You-Know-Who has been possessing Harry, or that's the best explanation that we have for what's happened."

His words, however, were cut off when a bright flash of flame appeared above Harry and a large, swanlike, bird appeared and fell onto Harry's stomach. This bird was, of course, a Phoenix, and it is widely known that a Phoenix abhors all that is evil or twisted. So, when the Phoenix just stayed on Harry, Sirius was forced to eat his words in the figurative fashion.

The impact did nothing to wake up Harry from his magically induced slumber.

"_Ennervate_" Hermione heard Lupin say and watched as Harry's eyes opened. It was an interesting experience to watch, first his eyes took the room in all at once. Then, after his expression showed that he didn't know where he was –it was quickly replaced, Hermione thought that she was the only one to have seen it- he looked around again, and evidently found his bearings. Then, he looked over at Sirius with the most peculiar expression on his face, but quickly looked away.

Hermione was certain that his gaze had lingered on her longer than anything else when Harry had looked around to see where he was.

The entire process took about five seconds.

"Hello Sirius." Harry said a tad bit cooler than he normally did, though it would only be noticeable if one was looking for it. .:Hello Hermione:. He said at the same time.

"Listen, Harry, I'm sorry. But, we thought that you were possessed by You-Know-Who." He said it quickly, as if trying to get a foul taste out of his mind.

"Lemme guess, you thought that because I had mentioned that Dumbledore had thought the same thing?"

Sirius had the decency to look abashed. "Well, that _did_ factor into our thinking, but the signs were all there!" He said it as if to say "Hey man, that's not my fault!" "What else were we to think. You reading for fun? AND taking notes. Hermione riding a broom and relaxing?"

"Maybe that we've changed for the better?" Harry said.

"No, you just swapped places." Sirius protested.

Harry grumbled and was glad, for the first time ever, that he'd had detention with Professor Umbridge –though the woman didn't deserve the title- and allowed him to get a better grip on his temper.

"Sure." He said, sarcasm dripping from every word. When he made to sit up, Lupin didn't stop him, but allowed him to sit up. Hermione followed seconds later and the two raced off to the outside lawn.

"My god, Moony." Sirius said. "What have we done?"

**.oOo.**

After the dinner was finished, the Weasleys all gathered around the wireless to listen in on the news. What they heard was enough to make Ginny slightly crazy on Harry's behalf.

"Today, Lucius Malfoy, a suspected Death Eater and the former head of the House Malfoy. Attacked the residence of Harry Potter. Legal actions are going to be taken against the Malfoy family in the near future. So says the office of Amelia Bones, head of the DMLE."

That's all Harry being attacked rated, Ron thought bleakly, a blurb on the wireless. If it were Malfoy, he continued, it would've been a huge thing. Notices would've been printed up and sent to every pure-blooded wizard's home, the Daily Prophet would be running in over time to create a special "Feel The Malfoys' Pain" edition.

But no, Harry Potter the Bloody Boy-Who-Lived, rated no more than a brief blurb on the wireless and a statement from the head of the DMLE.

If only Ron understood that he head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement didn't regularly give statements to the press. If he understood that, then things might've gone differently for him when he started ripping into his father about it.

As it was, he was let off with a small punishment, just sent up to his room and he couldn't come down until his parents let him. He didn't dare try to go down when his parents weren't looking, after all, they had wards for that kind of stuff!

**.oOo.**

When the aurors were, finally, called to the scene, the newsies were very psyched. They had all been told stories of what the aurors did to any miscreant, no matter how small or justified their reason. Add that to an entire career of demonizing them, the newsies were sure of their death when the aurors arrived.

"Hello, ma'am." The newsie who'd fired the reductor curse said as courteously to the woman before him. He couldn't see her name or badge, but everything about her screamed "AUROR" to him.

"Hello, Mister Johnson." The Auror said to him, her voice pleasant. She really wasn't bad looking, for an auror.

"Would you like a confession or will a written statement suffice?" Mister Johnson asked in a scared voice.

The auror gave a musical laugh. "Why would we need a confession? You killed a Death Eater, with a perfectly legal curse." He could've sworn that the auror _winked_ at him.

Johnson let out a relieved sigh. "Well, you know how…well, how _we_ portray the aurors, hell, I actually believe some of it." His voice was apologetic.

"Don't" The auror's voice was now very stern.

"Okay, okay…" Johnson's voice trailed off.

"Director Bones also wants to know if you have any reason to remain as a journalist?"

"Why?" Johnson thought he knew the reason why, but he wanted to be sure.

"I have a job offer of a Special Investigator, an we figured that a journalist would be a damn sight better than the Minister's blonde-haired boy."

"I didn't really like working freelance anyway."

And so it was the chasm of malevolence between the auror and the newsie was finally bridged.

**A/N:** Don't ask me what happened with this…I didn't really like how it turned out, but hey! Johnson just might end up being an important figure in the story. Funny how a story that you're supposedly writing starts dictating its own terms, isn't it?


	6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six 

If only I knew what this job entailed when I accepted it, griped Franklin Johnson for the fiftieth time that day. Hell, it was a good job, but the hours were horrible, the satisfaction of doing a good job non-existent and the respect from his peers was also missing. In fact, the only reason he still kept the job was that he was trying to do his best to protect his government's honour…That and he wanted to get in with the auror-who-hired-him's good graces.

Sure, he'd been pumped for the job when he first heard about the job, but now…Now, the hours he'd been pulling was catching up to him, he didn't know how many more 0500-2300 days he could pull. After all, there was only so many days that one could go on only four hours' sleep, and he was rapidly approaching his limit.

But, he'd continue doing his job to the best of his ability until that time came.

Now, he was sitting at his desk and looking at reports arrayed strategically on his desk. In reality, that mass of paper was reports on the multitude of people that he needed to investigate, detain, and interrogate. Right now, his target was a Mister James Reynolds, from the Auror Corps. He didn't know how he would sneak up on an Auror, especially an Auror that was possibly corrupt and expecting some type of investigation –aurors were just _that_ paranoid- but he'd find a way.

Grinning suddenly, he brought out a piece of paper and scribbled down some words, he then folded it into a paper aeroplane and threw it with a snap of his wrist.

He had a plan.

Harry and Hermione were playing a game of chess, not Wizarding Chess mind you, but regular chess. It was an interesting game when you knew what your opponent's plan was at the same time as she did and you knew her thought processes to reach that. And, at least Harry hoped it did make for a long game.

He didn't want to be caught by Sirius or Remus, since the incident –as Harry had taken to calling it- they'd taken to popping out at the most random of moments, their mouths vomiting apologies. So, he'd taken refuge in the attic office. It hadn't taken long for Hermione to find him there, sitting on the hard wood floor playing solitaire, a copy of _"The Two Towers"_ lying discarded on the desk. He'd evidently been playing many games, as attested to by the tally sheet lying next to him that bore the legend "Games Of Solitaire I've Won Today –25 July" and the copious amount of tallies on said sheet of paper.

After Harry gave up on Solitaire, Hermione was right next to him, holding a Scrabble-board, a Risk-board, a Monopoly-board, and a chessboard. They'd then proceeded to play a game of Chess and then start on the other games.

That was a week ago.

Currently Harry was winning at Risk, but Hermione was infinitely better in Scrabble, thinking up long words that used rarer –and thus worth more points- letters than Harry's pathetic: _Lumos_ and _Me_. In between the activities, or late at night, Harry caught up on his reading of _The Lord of the Rings_. Surprisingly enough, Hermione hadn't read any of the books, her parents taking the words: Not For Children, on the book's cover to mean that it was book with Adult Content.

Monopoly was a game that both were evenly matched at, Hermione's intellect was at odds with Harry's experiences and both made almost the same amount of mistakes and, also, each had their share of good ideas. Currently, they were both sitting on equal piles of cash, though they had bought different properties, each representing their own strategy. Harry –what he affectionately called the slums, and Hermione –the high-rent district.

The only time Harry had had to face Remus and Sirius were meal times and, even then, Harry had been known stood up and walked away in the middle of a meal after Remus and/or Sirius uttered one too many "I'm oh so very sorry" statements to Harry. He regarded it with a rather dry humour that he was now avoiding the man whom he'd come back to save.

Once Harry and Hermione had started to talk about this phenomenon, Harry voiced fears about his avoidance of Sirius and Remus, and Hermione replied, "Don't be stupid, they're acting childish. Three Armies to Scandinavia from Great Britain." And their Risk game went on, unhindered.

And Harry's two occupying armies stopped the attack on Scandinavia, barely, much to Hermione's embarrassment.

Harry eventually held Europe, thoroughly trouncing Hermione in Great Britain, Western Europe, and Ukraine. They then had to go to bed.

Harry had moved his trunk and other belongings up to the attic after Sirius and Remus had ambushed him; frankly, he was glad he did, he didn't want to run into them again, to be mobbed by their apologies.

He also was combating a new attraction for his bushy-haired best friend, though, he reasoned, that any lengthy amount of time spent in the presence of one of the opposite gender was sure to spark up 'hidden feelings' for said person. At least, that's what he fervently hoped it was, after all, she was going to be Ron's and Ron would kill him if he made a move on 'his' girl.

_But_, a snide little voice in his head asked, the one that, ironically, had Draco Malfoy's voice, _would he still want her? Especially when her mind was…joined with yours._

He banished the voice to the back of his mind, where it should've stayed, but stayed up later than he normally did, trying to puzzle out what his mind had told him. He hoped to God, if there really was one, that Hermione was asleep and didn't hear his thoughts.

Pushing all thoughts of his bushy-haired best friend out of his conscious thought, and being glad that she was in her own room, Harry eventually found sleep.

Cross looked down at his desk. Scattered upon it were various reports that came from all over, reports from the Scotland Yard, from precinct police stations, from the OSS during World War Two, and, even, from the American FBI during what the Yankees called the Prohibition. He looked down at them with, almost, blank eyes, trying to find one catchall idea for all of these previously thought impossible to solve crimes, an idea that wasn't Magic.

He couldn't come close. There were the reports from the Greater Hangleton Police Department from 6th July 1944 regarding the murder of the Riddle family. The Gardener had been implicated and even questioned, but nothing could be made of it. He, Michael Cross, had solved the answer to the people who had died from fright.

Magic.

Unconsciously, he had penned the word on a legal pad he'd been taking notes on; he had even underlined it. He looked at the cases once more; he had to have definitive proof that Magic existed so he could convert the boss.

Oh, how he wished that the boss hadn't ripped up the Albus Dumbledore card that had inspired this investigation! As it was, the battle was going to be tough enough.

Albus Dumbledore gave a convulsive shudder as he slowly groped his way towards consciousness. He slowly opened his eyes, and promptly winced when the stark white ceiling of the Hospital Wing flooded his vision, the harsh lighting obtained though a perpetual _lumos_ making his eyes start to ache.

"P-poppy?" He managed to say though his parched mouth and cracked lips.

The medi-witch stopped reading her medical journals, jumped out of her chair, and rushed over to the fallen Headmaster's side. "Albus." She said in a concerned voice. "Albus, are you okay?" She managed to say through her tears of joy. "I…I thought I'd lost you. I've never lost a patient before, and, well, I didn't plan on starting with the Headmaster."

"Poppy…" Albus placed a comforting hand on the witch's shoulder. "Poppy, I'm going to be…okay." He ground out.

Poppy looked at him strangely before she conjured up a glass of water, which she handed to the grateful Headmaster, who finished the glass in less than five seconds, grateful to have some liquid in his formally dry mouth.

"Better." He said, savouring the feeling of being able to speak without hurting his throat. "Where's… where's Fawkes!" He shouted in his alarm.

"I was going to ask you that myself." Poppy said after a moments' silence. "I didn't see him when I came into your office to retrieve you. I thought you might've sent him on a mission of your own." She shrugged. "Sorry Albus, I know how much that bird meant to you."

Albus sat on the bed, looking like he'd lost his best friend, which is probably what _had_ happened. "Dammit." He said quietly, causing Poppy's head to fly up, did the Headmaster actually swear? "I could've stopped him!" He said softly, as if talking to himself. "I could've stopped him, but. No, I had to say the wrong thing.

"I had to badger him into sending the letter.

"And because of that, he's gone."

It seemed that vocalising his thoughts held a therapeutic quality for the Headmaster, as he started sitting straighter in his bed, at least, he was until he said the last bit. In fact, if Poppy looked hard enough, she thought she could see a lone tear making its journey down the Headmaster's cheek.

"That's enough of this depressing talk." Poppy said with a note of finality in her voice. "You are going to go back to sleep. No, I don't care if you've spent the past few weeks in bed, you're going back to bed!" Her voice was very loud at the last bit, causing more than a few portraits in the Hospital Wing to wince and cover their ears.

And, without so much as a note of protest, the Headmaster slid back under the sheets, his face troubled.

Hermione looked down at Harry's right hand, or, more preciously, the word-shaped scars on the back of his hand that he hid from everybody he could, no that he'd held much of a chance of success against her, after all, they did share a mind. She didn't know why it intrigued her so much, maybe it was that he felt different to her, he'd felt different ever since the incident in the Shrieking Shack when he'd convinced Snape –_Professor _Snape, she corrected herself- into tying up both Sirius and Peter; something that she would've been sure that he wouldn't have ever done.

She was pulled out of her musing by Harry, who was gently shaking her shoulder, undoubtedly trying to get her attention for something or other that she would later call frivolous, but really enjoy. "What?" She asked, playacting annoyed.

"Check, and Mate." Harry said triumphantly, gesturing at the chessboard, and grinning like a blithering idiot.

"I can see that." Hermione replied dryly.

_Damn, she must really be distracted_, Harry thought as he looked upon his…best friend? What was she, really? Could she be called a soul mate –in the literal sense of the term- possible girl-friend material, or would she remain his best friend. He knew that Ron had something for her, but didn't know if she reciprocated his red-haired friend's feelings, he knew that she probably saw things as he did, namely that bickering constantly was not a sign of "True Love" –If such thing existed- but a sign that they fought…a lot. He knew that Ron had thought about asked her to the Yule-Ball in Fourth Year –_Or would it be next year?_ –And that she had all but said "You bloody prat, ask ME first!" in the middle of their fight after the ball. But, could he help Hermione avoid the tears somehow –and, at the same time, spare him the full-fledged flight between his friends.

But, what if he'd done the Unforgivable (Yep, capitalised, Unforgivable) Thing?

What if he had fallen in love, or at least what he guessed was love, with his bushy haired best friend?

Unseen to him, Hermione gave a brilliant smile.

Peter Pettigrew was not a brave man, as was widely known, but nor was he a coward, he merely latched himself onto the biggest, most powerful person he could in order to ensure his day to day survival. Everything else came after survival in his book, not that he had any intention of actually writing a book –he had an almost pathological distaste for anything remotely connected to school, and, more importantly, school work- in deed, as he'd proven on a September day, nearly 13 years ago, even friendship came after his survival.

He knew that the Dark Lord was shaken, Lucius Malfoy had been killed Three Weeks ago, not by an auror, but by a thrice-damned Newsie, coupled with the fact that the Potter-boy was gone and that he –Pettigrew- was currently holed-up in a mansion that reeked of Muggles, it even looked like Muggles had furnished it, made it dangerous to be a lackey for the Dark Lord.

Maybe even enough to make it… damaging to the odds of his continued survival.

Hmmmm…He'd have to think about it.

"I don't know what it is, Moony. Every time I open my mouth to apologise, he's out of the room like a Firebolt, I can't help the feeling that he's…disappointed in me." Sirius was talking to Remus, better known as Moony. He had been doing such since Harry had walked out on them during Lunch earlier.

"Sirius… I don't know how to say this, but I think that he _is_ disappointed in you and me, it seems that he just wants to forget about the incident." The Incident, that's how they'd been referring to it for the past week, such a clean, sterile term for such an atrocious act. Stunning a child could be considered Child Abuse if the stunned wanted to press charges. And Remus knew that. "I vote that we just don't mention it at the next meal, maybe that will get him out of the office where he's holed himself up with Hermione." Moony suggested in a weak voice, knowing that he was going to get turned down, again.

He was surprised. "Why not." Sirius said in a defeated voice. "We- I've tried everything else."

Sirius's omission scared Moony more than anything else did that day. Harry's expression of deepest regret as he walked away from both Breakfast and Lunch didn't cut as deep, nor did Hermione's look of loathing as she, inevitably, followed him. The scene with Hermione flying on the broom and Harry reading didn't even scare him this much, or the thought of just what two teenagers of the opposite gender would be doing locked up in a Office-turned-bedroom turned Office/Bedroom.

He was glad that Harry had got along with George the House Elf well enough to allow him to bring food, otherwise he would starve. He wasn't eating that much at any meal, and thus probably relished the extra food that he House Elf gave him.

Remus dearly hoped that he was getting treated better than he would've at the Dursley's.

He was lucky to think that what he'd done even came close to what the Dursleys did, he was lucky to have a life of Black and White.

Harry's had been Grey and Black with only a little White for as far as he could remember.

The next day, Harry woke up in the early morning, he quickly swept the office/bedroom with his sight, looking for something amiss. When nothing revealed itself to him, he shrugged and groggily made his way down the ladder that connected his room to the rest of the house, and then went on to the bathroom to shower and get dressed –a nice aspect of living in a wizard's house was the fact that he wardrobe was magically connected to the bathroom, a minor convenience, but a convenience nonetheless.

After he took his shower and was dressed, a pair of overlarge jeans and a polo shirt that he'd found on the ground at school and magically repaired, he walked down the breakfast, feeling slight trepidation. He looked around the kitchen, but to no avail, he knew he was in the minority of people who like to get up early, but was slightly surprised not to see Remus and Sirius waiting for him to appear and vomit their apologies.

After assuring himself that nobody was awake apart from him and the House Elf, he made himself some cereal and proceeded to eat it. Today was the day that he was testing into Ancient Runes and Arithmancy.

_Flashback, two weeks ago_

_Harry woke up at his normal time. He went through his usual routines and was not surprised to see Sirius and Remus standing in the Kitchen, vomiting apologies like they were physically sick. He just ignored them and ate, the only time that he was able to that week._

_He looked up suddenly as the fireplace blazed green and Professor McGonagall floo-ed into the house, appeared unruffled as she gracefully stepped out of the fireplace. She looked around for Harry and smiled when she saw him._

_"Thank you for the letter, Mister Potter." She said sans her usual stern tone. "I am here to confirm that you wish to drop Divination. Is that so, Mister Potter?"_

_"Yes, Professor." Harry said quietly, painfully aware of the looks exchanged between Remus and Sirius._

_"Excellent, I was always a little…disappointed in those who take it." She said, her voice trying, and failing, to remain neutral. "But, there are a gifted few who truly have the Gift."_

_Then she switched gears. "Do you know what course, or courses, you want to take in lieu of Divination?"_

_Harry nodded; he'd been expecting that question. "Yes, ma'am, I'd like to take both Arithmancy and Ancient Runes." He was glad that his voice didn't waver and reveal his inner nervousness._

_McGonagall raised an eyebrow, but said nothing._

_After a pause, she cleared her throat. "In that case, Mister Potter, you are expected at Hogwarts in two weeks time, at eight o'clock, don't be late."_

_"Thank you, Professor." Harry said gratefully as the Professor turned and floo-ed away._

END FLASHBACK 

Harry looked down at his watch, it was nearly a quarter to eight, and he'd better do a quick run-down of his notes!

Ten minutes later Harry grabbed a handful of Floo Powder and tossed it in the fire place. "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Minerva McGonagall's office!" He said quietly and he stepped into the fireplace.

He was unceremoniously deposited in the office of his Head of House, who looked slightly miffed at the disturbance, but her face softened at the sight of him. "Harry." She said, genuinely happy. "I've been waiting for you!"

Harry immediately checked his watch, which was, thankfully, analogue, and saw that it was exactly eight o'clock, he looked confusedly at McGonagall, but she only gave a knowing smile and opened her officer door.

"You'll be tested in the Great Hall." She said as she led the way to the aforementioned location. "You'll be watched by Professor Flitwick, and the test will be exactly one hour long." She side-stepped the Bloody Baron and continued on, unhindered. "The test will be on last year's material, in fact, it's the final exam for last year."

Harry nodded, thankful that she had let this bit of information slip, but didn't trust himself to say anything.

"Well, Mister Potter." She said. "This is where I leave you." And she turned on her heal to walk away.

Looking around, Harry realised that they weren't at the Great Hall. "Professor!" He called, but to no avail: Professor McGonagall continued walking away, whistling a jaunty tune.

"Hello Harry." An old voice said from behind him.

Harry jumped. He looked around and saw Professor Dumbledore standing there, wearing his ever-present robes of deep purple and his ever crooked pointed hat. His nose was, now, showing no signs of ever being broken –Probably a treatment that Madame Pomphrey couldn't get him to agree to, Harry decided- and his eyes…His eyes showed signs of actually being contrite.

"Professor." He said neutrally.

Dumbledore laughed, then spluttered, coughing. "Dry throat." He said by way of explanation.

"What?" He asked, actually curious.

"You just reminded me of a student I once knew here, a brilliant young man, never could figure out how he felt about me." He said lightly.

"From when you were a student?" Harry asked, his voice deceptively light.

"No." Dumbledore replied. "From when I was the Defence Professor."

Harry did a double take. "I never knew that you taught Defence here!" He exclaimed. "I just thought that you were the Charms teacher."

"No." Dumbledore said, and that was that.

The two continued along their path to the Great Hall, their conversation forcefully light and meaningless, until they got to the doors leading into the Great Hall.

"Harry." Dumbledore said before Harry could walk into the Great Hall. "I'm afraid I owe you an apology." He looked beseechingly at Harry, who nodded for him to continue. "I have altered your test scores illegally, I have placed you with your relatives, whom you hate, illegally, and I have threatened you with failing grades if you didn't go to your relatives house. I did all of this knowing that I was not acting within my rights, and, if anything, outside the legal boundaries established for the Headmaster of Hogwarts by the Acts of 1788. But," he raised a hand to stop Harry's inevitable words, "I did so in the full faith that what I was doing was all for the Greater Good." He looked at Harry like a grandfather. "I'm afraid I haven't been totally honest with you, Harry." He looked at him strangely, but then shook his head. "But that's a tale for another day. In the meantime, could you, possibly, forgive an old man of his mistakes?"

He held out his right hand.

"Just remember." Harry said, in the same voice that he'd used when he'd talked to his Dumbledore after Sirius had fallen through the Veil, the deathly calm voice that set most people on guard immediately. "That the road to Hell is paved with good intentions." He then grasped Dumbledore's hand with his own and shook it.

He then turned his back on the man and walked into the Great Hall. He had a test he needed to take!

After he disappeared into the Great Hall, Dumbledore stood, rooted to the spot. He'd never imagined it possible that Harry would forgive him so readily, nor did he think that it was possible that Harry would trust him, but he'd done so, if only by shaking Dumbledore's wand-hand with his own.

"He actually forgave me." He whispered, dumbfounded. "Even after I screwed around his life, he actually forgave me." He looked down at his nine handed watch. "Poppy's going to kill me!" He said and then ran for the Hospital Wing, a black-haired boy he'd known fifty-years ago and one that he now knew still on his mind.

"Ah! Welcome Mister Potter!" Professor Flitwick said, standing on a pile of large tomes. "If you'd sit down at any desk, we can get started."

Harry looked around, the Great Hall was, much like it was during the O.W.L.'s, currently stocked with many large desks that had enough room for one occupant and a tonne of parchment, almost literally. He also noticed Crabbe and Goyle sitting at the two desks furthest away, _probably trying to be unnoticed while cheating_ Harry thought scornfully.

He chose a desk that was in the direct line of sight of Professor Flitwick and sat down heavily in his chair. He was astonished to note that it held a cushioning charm on it that made long hours in it bearable. He pulled out a muggle ballpoint pen that he'd picked up at the Dursley's and clicked it experimentally, the noise causing Flitwick to turn his head so quickly that Harry thought he heard a snapping noise.

"What is that, Mister Potter?" The diminutive Professor asked.

"It's a muggle ballpoint pen, sir." Harry said dismissively.

"Fascinating." Flitwick said, astounded. "May I have it after the testing?"

"Sure." Harry said, surprised that Flitwick hadn't heard of or seen one before.

Flitwick looked around and, apparently seeing everybody that was supposed to be there, brought out his wand and magicked a piece of parchment to every student's desk, four in total.

Harry clicked his pen and, when Flitwick told them to turn over the piece of paper on their desk, flipped the piece of paper, starting to read the question.

_What does the rune Pi usually mean in the muggle world?_

Grinning, Harry set to work.

**A/N:** Here it is, probably the last chapter of the summer…Wow, hard to believe that its almost over. I start school September Fourth, and I'm in some classes that are going to be harder than last year homework wise. So, I might not write as much as I usually do over the school year.

Hopefully, I'll be able to write half of chapter three of Rewriting the Past, but I've not looked at the story since my rewriting of this story, so who knows?

I'm glad that I haven't bored anybody to death, yet.

Again, if you're interested in beta-ing or brit-picking this story –which I desperately need- just PM or e-mail me.

Thanks for all the reviews, and I'll see you in either Chapter Three-RtP, or Chapter Seven-TCWM!


	7. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven**

_**A/N:**__ I'm back! After a brief vacation from writing (High School) I've finally posted this chapter! Hope you enjoy._

"Time is up." Professor Flitwick called from his podium at the front of the Great Hall. "Please pass your test forward."

Harry looked down at the parched he'd been writing on, or, more accurately, the way his writing seemed to cave downwards, and inspiration struck. _Why can't we just use notebooks?_ He happily thought to himself.

Looking around, Harry noticed that everybody in the room was glaring holes in the back of his head, he was supposed to take the tests from the fourth occupant of the room, who was standing calmly by his desk. He long blonde hair hung down and her protuberant eyes were blue…"Luna?" Harry choked out; looking oddly at the witch who'd always struck him as not quite in the same place as he was. "What are you doing here?"

Luna looked down at harry with he slightly spaced looking eyes, "To hand these tests to you, of course." She said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world; which it probably was, causing Harry to grin, he _liked_ this girl!

Far away, Hermione frowned.

"However if you're wondering why I'm here, I'm retaking my Second Year exams, trying to get a full one-hundred and forty-five per cent in Charms, but I fear I missed a question." She shrugged theatrically. "If you don't take the papers, the Flitter-winged Capulets hovering above Professor Flitwick will move to a different plane." She whispered in a conspiratorial tone.

Flushing, Harry took the papers, added his own to the pile, and extended his arm to place them in the waiting arms of Professor Flitwick, who dismissed them once he had the tests.

After Harry gave Flitwick the ballpoint pen he'd been using, he turned to leave, and ran into Luna Lovegood. "Hello Harry Potter." She said, her voice, as always, soft and spacey. "You have a lot of Centerwing Scatterbarbs around you." She said and, after grabbing something from right by his left leg, she turned and left, leaving a bemused Harry behind.

"She does have that effect on people." A gentle male voice said from behind him.

Harry spun around, drawing his wand as he did so…and replacing it in his right sleeve in one fluid motion after he saw whom it was. "Professor Flitwick." He nodded respectfully.

"Mister Potter," The aged Professor returned the nod. "I just ran a correction spell on your paper and found something interesting, follow." He beckoned to Harry and marched off to the high table usually reserved for teachers. "Observe." He presumably cast the spell again as the parchment glowed green for a moment before a number appeared over it. 87. Harry felt his stomach contract as he watched the percentage fade out of sight. "Now," continued the diminutive professor, "I didn't think that you could get that with just book study –as loathe as I am to admit it- so I looked through your test with a more advanced correcting charm." He cast that spell and the parchment glowed orange for a moment and a new number appeared. 93, Harry felt slightly better about it.

"Now, Mister Potter." Flitwick continued. "Imagine my amazement when your score went _up_ after a more thorough examination, that rarely happens." He added by way of explanation. "So I decided to look at it myself." Harry vaguely wondered how long he'd spent talking with Luna." And I found that you gave an answer worthy of Miss Granger for every question –if she had been in here I would've suspected you were copying off her paper. You have received a ninety-eight per cent plus or minus two per cent. I believe that you made it into both classes, Mister Potter." A smile flitted across the short professor's genial face and Harry slowly released a breath that he hadn't known he'd been holding.

"Thank you for telling me, Professor." Harry said, earnestly grateful, and then he walked out of the Great Hall, leaving an impressed dwarf of a man behind.

Harry walked to Professor McGonagall's office, narrowly avoiding Peeves several times by ducking into passages only half-remembered, and arrived at her door panting, but happy. He knocked on her door and, after receiving a muffled "Come in" Harry walked into his Head of House's office.

He didn't make it into the office fast enough though; Peeves came darting up the hallway and, taking advantage of his half-solid form, lobbed a water balloon at Harry, hitting him in the exact centre of his back, drenching him, the floor around him, and dampening McGonagall's hat, of which she took no notice.

Professor McGonagall was reading over some parchment that had a handwriting he'd never seen on it, she looked up anxiously when he came into her office, and Harry quickly called upon his years being the Dursley's House Elf substitute. While he was bursting with happiness inside, on the outside he appeared thoroughly browbeaten and depressed, and he trudged in with a slight stoop to his back and shuffled.

"What happened Potter?" She said, then, more kindly, "are you all right, Harry?" Inevitably followed by: "Why are you all wet?"

"Hermione's gonna kill me." Harry wailed. "Not only did I do badly on a test, I broke my promise to her…to never, never… To never…" He over did it and started bawling theatrically, his face looking like one whose birthday had been revoked.

"Yes, yes. Get on with it, Potter." McGonagall said brusquely, trying to keep the conversation moving, and fretting about the fate of her favourite Seeker.

"I got a…I got a ninety-eight, plus or minus two percent." Harry said happily, his countenance completely changing from one who had just failed the great test of life to one who had surveyed the battlefield and saw only victory: his eyes brightened, his shoulders moved from their stooped position to a straight one, and his stoop turned into a proud stand.

McGonagall groaned into her hands, he was the son of James Potter, of course he was going to pull pranks, it was in his blood. Not to mention that he'd been living with Sirius Black for the summer. "Be gone with ye!" She cried at him, waving her hands at him. "I've nae seen anyone who got so worked up over a ninety-six to one-hundred on an exam, Hermione Granger included!" She threw her hands into the air in mock exasperation. "Get!" She cried as he stood, rooted to the spot, a grin forming on his face.

Harry's grin reminding her of James Potter after he pulled a particularly good prank on somebody, usually Severus Snape, and got away with it, he walked towards her fireplace and took a fistful of floo powder. He through it into the fireplace, and said, in a calm voice, "Home By The Sea!" And disappeared into the emerald flames, his eyes twinkling with unvoiced mirth.

Silently chuckling to herself, McGonagall looked back down at the parchment she'd been perusing, and smiled slightly to herself, it appeared that Ms Granger was a good influence on Harry, she hadn't seen him this happy since he' d been chosen for the house Seeker in his First Year.

Harry appeared in the fireplace of Sirius's Cottage -which he had named "The Home By The Sea"- in a flurry of ash and green flame. He looked around anxiously, not seeing anybody he cautiously walked into the kitchen, his mind working overtime trying to think up reasons for the absence of Hermione, Remus, and Sirius, but not coming up with any reasonable excuses. He looked up sharply at a sound that seemed out of place, a female voice, singing.

Checking his watch, Harry saw that it was only 0900, and he grinned to himself; Hermione was, during the summer months, a late riser; it had been only this summer, with it being only them and Sirius and Remus living under one roof, that Hermione had been going to bed late and waking up early. Hermione, if she had got her own way, would go to bed at 2300 every night and would wake up at 0900, getting a solid ten hours of that oh-so-vital sleep that Harry usually lacked large amounts of.

Looking around for Sirius and Remus, Harry made his way to the bedroom/office that he'd been using and was surprised to see or rather not, the ladder missing. He guessed that somebody had looked his room, something that he wouldn't have done if he were there. A flicker of movement at the edge of his vision, and Harry had his wand raised and levelled at the movement before he was conscious of the act. _I'm getting jumpy, _he noted.

He was surprised when Hermione stepped out of the shadows and raised her hands; grinning sheepishly, Harry lowered his wand.

He was surprised to then have an emotional Hermione run forward and embrace him like he was going to disappear from his sight forever. In fact, he was so surprised that he did little to soothe her –not that he had the best track record with doing that, but one must try- like he normally would've. Nor did he try to stop the hug that went on far too long past the limits that decorum among friends, even best friends, had set, not that he was in the mind to, he started to enjoy it too much.

He didn't feel anything past disappointment when she pulled back and looked him right in the eyes, her light brown eyes boring holes in his scalp as she looked at him with no small amount of concern. "Where were you!" She eventually said after a long pause in which they did no more but look at the other.

Harry fidgeted for a moment but then grinned widely. "I'm in Ancient Runes and Arithmancy." He finally said, his voice showing his immense pride at the achievement.

Hermione looked rather nonplussed at this news –no doubt thinking that it wasn't _that _big of an accomplishment to be transferred into the Third Year classes- until she, apparently, remembered that Harry had gone to Hogwarts earlier to test into the Fourth Year Classes for _both_ of the aforementioned classes. Her cheeks then turned a deep shade of red that forced Harry to resist the urge to laugh out loud at her embarrassment, lest she start talking about some dangerous hexes and still hold on to her wand.

She then positively squealed with…delight?-Harry thought that it sounded like she was getting tortured, and dragging him into it, his eardrums _hurt_! And started talking very rapidly about how she would work out study schedules for both of them and how great it would be that they were taking a class, just the two of them! Harry had to force down a grin that threatened to blossom on his face at her antics, and he contented himself with the feeling of amusement that, no doubt, Hermione was also feeling.

Hermione then started for the stairs leading down to the Ground Floor at a brisk pace, looking very much like a woman on a mission, and leaving Harry to follow after her. Her countenance betrayed nothing, except that she was close to being late for something that she didn't want to miss, nor did she want Harry to know about it. Her mind being extremely organised was a helpful thing as it allowed her to cordon off sections of her mind from him and make it appear that it just wasn't there.

Harry looked down at his watch, it was 30 July, and he thought that he knew what was going on.

**.oOo.**

Auror (2nd Class) James Reynolds was the most widely respected auror in the Auror Corps. He was a perfect man in, almost, all situations. He did not drink heavily, he stayed away from Magi Candy, he did not smoke heavily, and he did not engage in any activities that the current public had labelled 'bad'.

But, that was a lie, a façade he put up for the rest of the world to see.

Reynolds was, in all actuality, a 'deep cover agent' in the words of the Intelligence Agencies of both NATO and the former Warsaw Pact; a man inserted to gain a good reputation inside the enemy's camp and get promoted to be in a high place, but actually be on the other side's payroll. His real name was Frank Delen, but don't bother searching any of the old trial records for him, he was only mentioned once, by Karkaroff, and that was thought of as an act of desperation, of a man trying to save himself from the veritable hell of Azkaban Prison.

In truth, he was a Death Eater, a pretty damn good one if he said so.

More importantly, he was a _loyal_ Death Eater.

When the Mark faded from view, he didn't fear for his Lord, for he knew that he would come back, somehow.

When the Death Eater trials came, he made sure that the Death Eaters who were most important to his lord would get off on the Imperious Plea.

When the world started getting crazy, he placed his hope in his lord.

When the word that Peter Pettigrew was alive slipped through the ranks, he was there.

Yes, he was the man that let Pettigrew go free, he slipped a weakened sleeping potion into the guards' drinks –while it was cliché, the guards didn't think to look for it- and revealed himself to the frightened rat, whom he let free with the message that he was still loyal.

He then walked back into the room and raised the alarm, further insuring that he was beyond suspicion.

And he was currently under suspicion for his bank account, which, under the Goblins' supervision, had grown by leaps and bound. He had got a manager for his accounts that was actually good at his job, and they thought him corrupt!

He snorted into his drink, viciously suppressing the waves of laughter that would inevitable follow. He looked down at his watch, it was almost the time that the note he'd received had mentioned.

Yes, it was cliché, but that was probably why it worked so well. A man who relies on cliché is less likely to look out for cliché, and that blind spot made him vulnerable, more so than for the man who disbelieved everything just on principle.

"Mister Reynolds?" A man's voice said…_What was his name…Johnston, Johannson?_

Delen nodded his head, still trying to think of the man's name.

"Franklin Johnson, Special Investigator for the Ministry." The man identified himself, pulling out a small booklet and opening it to reveal his shield and ID card. "Please, stay seated." Then, taking his own advice to heart, Johnson sat down in the seat. "Do you smoke?" He asked pleasantly, taking out a pack of cigarettes that he'd bought on the way here. "No? Don't mind me then." He said as he pulled out one and magically lit it.

The smoke, however, contained a highly secret Truth Serum that was known only as Compound T-25, a highly upgraded version of Sodium-Pentathol, the Truth Serum of the muggle world.

"What is your name?" The man asked pleasantly.

"Frank Delen." Delen said blankly, trying to remember what his name was…_James Reynolds!_ He thought desperately to himself, _my name is James Reynolds!_

"Frank Delen, eh?" The man said, writing down in his notebook. Then, he remembered the class he'd had to take before entering the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. "_Stupefy._" He muttered, pulling out a special-issue .38" diameter wand and pointing it at Delen/Reynolds.

His quarry stunned, he pulled out a portkey and activated it while holding on to Delen/Reynolds.

Merlin, he hated this job at times! But, other times, it was well worth the entire hassle!

**.oOo.**

"Remember, we will be having company tomorrow." Said Missus Weasley. "I don't know why Hermione hasn't arrived yet, but we will find out. Also, tomorrow, your father, Fred, George, and Ron will be floo-ing over to Harry's relatives' homes." She went on to say more, but it was basically a reiteration of the rules and what to do, et cetera.

Ron, though he didn't show it, was scared. His friend hadn't sent him any letters, and his mother's letter, which was sent the muggle way, wasn't replied to.

He didn't know where his friends were, but he had a feeling that he was forgetting something…Something important…

He'd figure it out later, for now he was hungry.

**.oOo.**

Harry walked down into the ground floor, his eyes alert and his wand halfway drawn. He looked around cautiously, trying to find any possibility of attack, whether by Death Eaters or other, less obvious, factions. He was relieved when he made it to the Kitchen, where Hermione told him to meet her, without incident.

Lights!

Action!

Movement!

Shape: Male, middle aged, holding wand, wearing black, saying words. Action: target.

"_Stupefy, stupefy, stupefy, reducto, reducto, reducto, stupefy, stupefy, stupefy!_" Harry said quickly and quietly, moving his wand in an erratic pattern, trying to hit the most area he could at the time.

Instead of the noises telling him that his spells had met their mark, he was surprised to hear a deep gong-like reverberation echo throughout the room. He saw his spells coming towards him.

"_Protego!_" He cried, forcing all the possible power into the spell.

The Reductor Curses hit first, slowly weakening the shield, but the shield held, barely. Then came the Stunners. All six of them were too much for the paltry shield that he'd conjured hastily, the shield broke along crack lines that had been visibly forming in the shield, showing its stress.

It was too much; the shield broke, and a single stunner got through.

Of course, by this time, Harry was sufficiently drained of his magic that it didn't matter much if the stunner hit him or not, as he would have dropped to the ground anyway. But, with it hitting him, it caused him to fall down, under the magical effects of a single stunning spell, while combating Magical Exhaustion.

As he fell, he thought he heard somebody scream, or yell out, something…Something important, if only he could latch on to the…

All he saw was blackness.

**.oOo.**

Hermione groaned inwardly to herself, she'd told Sirius and Remus that a surprise Birthday Party was _not_ a good idea, but would they listen to her? _No_. They just wanted their fun, but…but now they had a teenager that was very different from at least 90 of all teenagers, both Yankees and English. So, they used a _rebounding _shield that Remus had looked up for that explicit purpose. So, they had a knocked out Harry, who also appeared to be exhausted, judging by his expression prior to falling.

Hermione just ground her teeth and walked over to her best friend, she wondered just how he kept on getting into these situations, but she wouldn't trade anything for him to not be her friend. She pulled out her wand and pointed it down at his temple. "_Ennervate_." She intoned quietly, after seeing Sirius do it to Harry she was reasonably certain of her ability to do the spell.

Harry's eyes fluttered open and looked at her briefly, his eyes focusing upon her face for a few seconds –in her mind it felt like half an eternity- before they closed again, a smile was on his face this time.

Hermione leaned down and picked him up, surprised at how light he actually was. She then walked with him over to the couch and dropped him unceremoniously upon it and took up residence at the far end of it, with his head in her lap.

_Did life exist solely to dish out this to him?_ She thought as she looked down at his, for once, untroubled face.

**.oOo.**

_I stand in a large room, it is curved so as to be bowl-like, in the center of the room is a large green orb, it is glowing blue and a field of some sort is pulsating out of it, extending to the outer perimeter of the room. I look to my side and I see that the door through which I presumably entered is no longer there._

_"Lord Twilight," a voice rings out, "it is nice to see you finally. I am surprised, however, by your tardiness. Was it not made clear to you in our letter that you were to report at five o' clock and take your seat?"_

_I don't answer, I don't know how I can answer this lady. I only bow my head respectfully and open my mouth. "My apologies, Lady Midnight," I hear myself say, "I was…detained by an urgent matter that required my attention and time, I will endeavor to be on time next meeting." I don't know what I'm saying, just that a person using my voice is saying it._

_"Next time? What makes you certain that you will live after this meeting?" A man says, "after all, you were almost destroyed by the Lord Dusk last week."_

_Then, I remember, I had fought Voldemort, Thomas Marvolo Riddle, last week, I was almost destroyed in the process, but he was destroyed, I destroyed him. I finger my oaken staff speculatively, my old Phoenix Feather wand was in the staff, but it did not react with Riddle's wand, when I searched his effects, it was gone._

_"You." I whisper, my voice cold. "Precor Incandio!" I cry, and a tongue of flame erupts from my staff and surrounds the man who had spoken. "I will not be talked to that way, Lord Dusk, or, should I say, the Commoner Dusk!" I snarl at him. At an unspoken command, the flame tongue forms into a globe and surrounds the Commoner Dusk so that he is unable to move._

_The back of my neck tingles and I look up, the Lady Midnight has drawn a sword, which I recognize as a rapier, and has started a charge towards me. With a wave of my hand, she is flung back wards, the point of her rapier…She is standing, the magic passing by her…My magic destroys her, which is more than I…I see the point of the rapier very clearly now…I am consumed by my own magic…_

_**FLASH**_

_I look up; I am in a manor, which I recognize as the Riddle Manor, my body is invisible, and I can see that none of the room's four occupants can I see me. I can make out Voldemort, Peter Pettigrew, an old man, and a large snake, I can hear Voldemort talking._

_"Nice to see you again, gardener." He spits. "Now, Peter." _

_Peter levels his wand, "Avada Kedava!" He cries, and a green blast lances out of his wand and into the old man's chest. In that moment, Voldemort can see me._

_I…_

Harry screamed.

His forehead was on fire, that was something that he thought he could deal with, but this…this was a torture that far exceeded what he had thought of as Hell. He could see that he was on the couch near the kitchen at Sirius's house, not in Riddle Manor. He could feel warmth near him, a person. Hermione. He hugged her from his awkward position and held on tight, knowing, somewhere, that she was the only constant, and his only lifeline.

He knew what he was going to do, he knew that he was to become a killer. Not a murderer, after all, its not murder if you put down a rabid dog, and that's exactly what Voldemort was, a rabid dog. No normal person would take the pleasure that Voldemort did from torturing people, no normal person would believe in the complete genocide of a sect of humans. No normal person would kill for the sake of killing…No, Voldemort was far from normal.

He cared not that Sirius and Remus were running down the stairs, that he would be seen like this, a wreck, by other people, he only cared that he was holding on to Hermione. And that he would never let go.

**A/N:** _Little choppy near the end, sorry 'bout that, but I've been playing more and more Civilization III and I haven't been able to type this up until now…Yeah, I'm in High School now, and, for once, I've finally gotten Homework, so, expect more updates than the Summer, but not as much as last school year… Sorry that this took so long…_


	8. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight 

**A/N:** _And, here we are, the Quidditich World Cup…Who would've thought it would take me 8 chapters/ 32000 words to get this far? Not I for one._

The flames felt fresh and relaxing against Harry's skin as he walked through the fireplace in the "Home By The Sea" and, hopefully, into the fireplace in the Burrow. As it was, he felt happy to finally be free from the house, and out of the prying looks of Remus and Sirius, he'd never quite realised what having a family meant, and this, well, was close to getting to be too much for the self-sustaining, self-reliant orphan that he'd turned into.

Sure, it had been nice to have a parent, somebody to turn to, but it was suffocating when you turned around to help yourself, to find help being given freely. He never knew how desperately he'd wanted a parent, nor for how long, but now that it was here, he didn't know if he wanted it still.

But, enough of this depressing talk.

After revolving in many circles, feeling Hermione's hand pressing into his own and their trunks following, it came as a surprise when it all stopped, and the world righted itself. While the trip had seemed to take an eternity to complete, most likely due to the increased load that it had had to hold, Harry looked down at his wristwatch and noted that it was only 1035, _the Weasleys should be here._ Harry thought worriedly, checking the clock above the mantle piece.

Something was wrong…very wrong.

**.oOo.**

A sudden flash of fire woke Harry up from his catnap he'd been taking, the fireplace was erupting in emerald flames, and _somebody was coming through!_ He flicked his wrist to release his wand from the wrist-holster that Sirius had given him for his birthday, and, while its legality was slightly questionable, Harry was grateful. With his wand in hand, Harry approached the flames with a feeling of apprehension.

_The flames are lasting longer than normal_, he thought to himself, _Death Eaters? _Harry then realised that he was being too paranoid, and relaxed his grip on his wand ever so slightly.

"Bloody Hell, mate." A familiar voice said. "Where'd you come from?"

Harry looked over at his red-haired friend, and smiled slightly, whenever the time, wherever the place, Ron could be counted on to act the same. Harry's smiled drooped ever so slightly as he realised what that meant for the current year…He'd be with only Hermione…Not that that would be a _bad_ thing per se, but it would be…different, different and difficult.

"What?" Harry asked, "didn't you know that we were staying at Sirius's?" Harry asked, his left eyebrow raised in clear question. "I told you that I was staying there before we left at the station."

"We?" Ron asked, too embarrassed to say anything else. "I thought only you were going to Sirius's…Speaking of which, where's Hermione?" Ron made a show of looking around.

"I'm here, Ron." Hermione said, a slight edge to her voice making Harry check if she'd caught on to what Harry had been thinking. "Thank you for letting Harry and I," she slightly stressed the 'and', making Harry wonder what she was doing, "come stay with your family until the Quidditch World Cup." Again, she didn't say 'you' but 'your family', _what is she doing?_ Harry thought, worried for his friend's standing in Ron's mind.

"Uh…You're welcome, Hermione." Ron said, ignoring the edge and words, _.:Probably thinking about food and when he's going to eat next:. _Hermione said scathingly, causing Harry to check again if she'd found out what he'd thought earlier about his flame-haired friend.

"So," Harry said, trying to break up the fight before it happened. "Who's up for a game of Wizard's Chess?"

Ron quickly agreed to that, eager to show off his skills in Wizard's Chess to Hermione…and Harry, never mind the fact that they knew very well that he was the best Gryffindor had to offer. It normally took a bit of bargaining and elbow-bending in order to get Hermione to agree to watch one of Harry and Ron's games, now she just agreed to it and left it at that.

Ron looked at Harry with something akin to a predatory gleam in his eyes as he deliberately set the pieces down on the chess board that his parents had saved up to give him for his eleventh birthday. He set himself up as white and Harry as black, Hermione made to object –as she always did- but Ron shushed her and nodded at Harry.

"May the best man win." He said, not having to add the _that means me_, at the end of that sentence. Harry noticed that Hermione heard it just as clearly as he did. _Did he always say it like that?_ He asked himself silently.

_.:Yes:._ Hermione replied, grinding her teeth together.

Ron, oblivious to all this, reached across to touch a piece, but retreated it, only to reach out again and retreat. In all, that process was repeated a grand total of seven times, in the end he moved his knight on black.

_.:No, Harry you want to move that piece…No, not that pawn…that pawn:._ Hermione advised as Harry went across each piece, watching Ron grow impatient.

"Won't you move already!" He demanded, after Harry started taking an inordinate amount of time to decide on his move. His face was red and his eyes flashed dangerously as Harry eventually moved his left-most pawn two spaces forward.

A few turns later and Ron was down his knight that he'd started with. "Bloody hell." He whispered as Harry victoriously moved his pawn sideways and destroyed the piece. "I thought I was the only person who knew about that." He continued in an awed voice.

_.:The muggles have a term for it, Pawn en Passant:._ Hermione sniggered. _.:No! Don't move you're rook over there, wait for it to be open, move your queen into the open, scare him:._

Harry took her advice and moved his queen so that Ron's king was in Check, and the only save was to sacrifice his queen. Harry knew Ron, he knew that he wouldn't part with his queen, rules be damned! He needed that queen!

Ron surprised him by moving the queen, the avenue of attack was clear. Moving his rook over, Harry placed it in a position where he could attack the queen…that was currently pinned by Harry's queen.

Muttering dark curses under his breath, Ron moved a pawn a cautious step forward, which Harry bagged with his black bishop, and, with the same move, moved to guard his queen. Desperately, Ron moved his other knight forward so that it would soon threaten Harry's king. Harry mercilessly attacked with the queen, placing Ron in Check, again.

With the tide of battle turned against him, Ron called up his bishop and had it charge and attack Harry's queen and then Harry's rook took the bishop, placing Ron in Check and Mate.

With nowhere to run, and nowhere to hide his king, Ron did the unthinkable. He moved his right hand forward, and pushed the king, ever so slightly, so that it fell down, the noise was thunderous in the near silence, and Ron's face held a fury that was great to behold.

"How?" He hissed, trying to hide his pain at being beaten. "How did you beat me? It's impossible! I am the best that Gryffindor ever turned out for chess, even McGonagall admits it, and, yet, you beat me?" His words might have been comical on somebody like Draco Malfoy, but, on Ron, they were sickening.

"I thought I knew you, Ron." Harry whispered, looking at his friend as if he'd never seen him before, and truth be told he'd probably never really seen him. _.:Want to go outside, Hermione?:._ Harry asked, desperate to be away from Ron.

"Gladly." Hermione replied, and, as one, they stood up and walked down the stairs, oblivious to Ron's goggling at both of them.

**.oOo.**

"Name?" The cold voice asked. _They've been at this for hours,_ his body complained, _why won't they stop?_

"Frank Delen." He replied in the same monotone voice he'd answered in for the past seventy two times, the same defeated voice.

"Position?" The cold voice asked again.

"Death Eater, Deep-cover spy, assigned to Auror Corps. Auror Second Class." Delen said, his voice utterly broken.

"Purpose."

"To serve the Dark Lord in thought, word, and deed." Somehow his damned monotone managed to sound reverent, as if he was worshipping the Dark Lord.

"How many Death Eaters were there at the height of the War?"

"Five hundred."

The interrogator looked surprised, he'd always received resistance at this point. "How many remain, that you know of?"

"Three."

"Name them."

"Peter Pettigrew, Bartemius Crouch Junior, and me, Frank Delen."

"Impossible, Crouch Junior died in Azkaban. How do you know that he is still alive?" The questioner's voice was harsh, more so than he'd used previously.

"On the night of the Fifteenth of November I received an odd communiqué from a house-elf. The thing looked half-starved and as if she was beaten regularly, she looked up at me and told me that Barty Crouch Junior still lived, then left. It was an experience unlike one would think because, two days ago, I encountered the same house-elf, and found out that her name was Winky, house-elf to Barty Crouch Senior."

"Johnson, you have the authorisation. And, as for you…" The interrogator wore a feral grin and pulled out a wand. "You'll answer my questions clearly, or we'll start getting creative with what we take off of you and how we do it after all, I'm not too particular about what I take off."

Delen gave a small shriek and seemed to vanish even further into the chair.

**.oOo.**

"Hannah, I need to ask you a question." Michael Cross asked the boss's receptionist. "Do you think that the Chief would accept a meeting?"

"Mike, is this about the Magic thing?" Hannah responded, looking the part of the oft-abused receptionist. She raised a hand, "no, don't even say it. The boss says that if, and only if, you can produce actual people involved with Magic, then you can get the meeting, but, otherwise, you're shot down." She gave a sympathetic grin and squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. "Don't work too hard at it."

"Too late." Cross said as he was walking away from the desk, his mind working in over-drive trying to think of how to get his hands on a wizard.

He walked like this all the way until he arrived at his desk, where he looked over at one of the few pictures he had up on it, his sister's grinning, sixteen-year old face beamed up at him, and he smiled.

He knew what he had to do.

**.oOo.**

"Mike, where are you going?" Hannah cried as Cross rushed passed her desk and was already half-way to the elevator. "Fine." She grumbled, "don't tell me anything. I'll just sit here and tell the chief that I don't know why you left, nor do I know where you'll be back." A pause, then: "Men!"

In truth, Cross did not know where he was going, but he had a general idea, and nor did he have any idea when he was going to be back. But, he doubted that his boss's receptionist would want to hear that.

He made his way out of the MI-5 building, where, on the inside of doorway, somebody had taped the sign: **Universal Exports**. Once outside, he looked around briefly and found what he was looking for.

A man wearing a purple robe and a green hat that no sane person would put together and wear as if nothing was wrong with the world. He was walking along the street, acting, for all intents and purposes, as a normal person would. Until, that was, until he stopped by the shop that was _always_ closed –in fact MI-5 was investigating them for the possibility of being a foreign power's intelligence operations base in England- and talked to the glass.

As Cross looked on, one of the mannequins moved ever so slightly, and the person walked into the glass…But it didn't shatter.

Cross then pushed people out of his way and ran towards the glass pane and, drawing his pistol, leapt through the glass…and it didn't shatter.

The sight that greeted his eyes was a strange one to behold, many people dressed like the man he'd followed were congregating around, and there was a bored looking woman –a witch, he supposed- was sitting behind a desk.

There were some _weird_ ailments in the Wizarding World, deduced Cross after putting away his pistol and started looking at the various people and focusing in on them. There was one man who was changing colours between green, yellow, and red, while another man was slowly writhing on the floor, complaining of having snakes in his lungs. All the while normal people stood and watched it happen without batting an eyelid.

"Oh, hello Michael." A man's voice said from behind his left shoulder. "Didn't think I'd ever see you in here…What are you in here for anyway?"

Cross turned around to see his neighbour, Mister Crouch, being escorted by another man, this one wearing simple black robes that melded in almost perfectly with his skin. "Oh, don't mind Anthony, here. He's just playing bodyguard today… I'm here to visit my old friend, Mister Rainthrow…Would you like to follow?"

Cross looked at the burly man behind Crouch and decided to come with his neighbour, after all, he actually liked Crouch, and had known that he had a background in Law Enforcement, so they could talk about something. But, he'd never known that Crouch was a Wizard, or was he as surprised, as one would expect him to be, as he'd become numbed to surprise over the past month.

"So, Mister Crouch." Cross began, but then stopped and looked at him a bit more fully. "Did you lose weight? You look a little bit more…I don't know, younger."

Crouch and Anthony exchanged a glance between the two of them, then Crouch began reaching for his leg and Anthony began looking over his shoulder. Cross pretended not to know what was going on, but, when their attention was fully diverted, reached for his pistol, cocked it, and pointed it straight into the heart of Crouch.

"I don't know who the hell you are, nor do I know what you're doing, but, most seriously, I don't give a damn." He ground out, looking, steely-eyed, at the man who was impersonating his friend. "So, care to enlighten the poor old muggle?"

Suddenly, Anthony crumpled down to the ground, and Cross's eyes were drawn to a red burst flying towards Crouch.

**.oOo.**

Cursing wildly to himself, Johnson started running towards Saint Mungo's. When he had kicked down Crouch's house door, he'd been surprised to see the man he'd come to arrest lying on the ground, his arms and legs duct taped together, and his intestines spilled out on the floor through a large hole in his chest. He could remember Crouch's dying words; "_His mother wanted him to live. He's going off to…Saint Mungo's, to kill my top-auror…_"

With the stench of death still strong in his nostrils he ran until he was a safe distance away to apparate to Saint Mungo's hospital. With a burst of magic and effort, he found himself in the front lobby of the much-acclaimed hospital, and he saw his prey.

He no longer was Franklin Johnson, special investigator, he was now a killing machine, and oiled for the singular purpose of killing the man who'd killed the best man that Johnson had had the pleasure of meeting. He slowly drew his wand, but then put it back when he realised that his target was guarded, and the guard was slowly sweeping the room.

He then noticed one of Crouch's companions threatening him and then Johnson fired. "_Stupefy._" He whispered, and he watched the spell fly out of his wand and hit the dark-skinned bodyguard and then Johnson's sights moved onto Crouch. _Something special for him…_"_Reducto._" He whispered, and his spelled flew out of his wand like a bat out of hell and it flew true. It connected with Crouch at the same time as something else.

**.oOo.**

Together, the two friends stood outside, looking down upon the village that was only several kilometres away from their vantage point. They were embracing the other, but that was not something that would've drawn a glance. No, it was the fact that neither one of them had said a word for several hours. Instead they just held on to the other and looked down upon the village, ignoring hunger and thirst.

_.:You ready to go, Hermione?:._ Harry finally asked, his 'voice' breaking the comfortable silence.

_.:No, but I think that we'll have to:._ She replied, with no small measure of sadness.

_.:Could be worse:._ Harry replied. _.:At least Ginny isn't trying to impress you or be the best at something:._

_.: Yeah…let's go:._

Together, the two friends turned away from the village and started trudging down the path leading to the burrow, the residence of the Weasley family.

**.oOo.**

It was dark when they arrived in the Burrow, their entrance supplied a sparse amount of light as they navigated around the dinner table and then up the stairs until they had to part.

_.:Well, goodnight:._ Harry said, then gave her a quick hug and disappeared up the stairs, leaving a confused Hermione at the bedroom that she was told by Missus Weasley that she was to occupy for the night. She sighed and then pushed open the door, only to yelp when she saw a very much awake Ginny sitting on the bed, doodling. When Ginny heard the yelp she looked up and stared at Hermione, her gaze accusing.

"Where were you?" She demanded her voice harder than normal.

"Why do you want to know?" Hermione countered, "last I saw, you weren't my mother."

"Because, it concerns Harry." Ginny said flatly. "If you're trying to do something…I don't know, more than friendly with him, I'll see to it that you're gone from this house. In a heartbeat."

"Ginny…I don't know what I could say …Except that we were just standing out looking down on the Village." Hermione realised just how stupid that sounded. "But, really, I don't know what I'm doing that's wrong." _Obsessive brat_, she thought derisively.

_.:No, really? I'm getting the same thing from Ron:._ Harry replied to her thought, his voice sarcastic.

"Just stay away from Harry." Ginny said darkly, and then she turned off the lights and fell asleep.

"Yes, ma'am." Hermione said sarcastically, including a mock-salute, as she blindly got ready for bed and then emulated Ginny's earlier feat of falling asleep is less than five minutes.

**.oOo.**

When Harry awoke, he looked over to where his clock should've been, but was confronted, instead, with the sleeping form of Ron…on the other bed. Letting out a sigh of relief, Harry turned on his side in order to look out the window, and gave a start when he realised that it was still dark, never mind how used to it he was by now.

After he was done looking out the window for a span of five minutes, Harry forced himself out of the bed and quickly made it behind me. Once that was done he made his way to the shower, and a guaranteed wake-up.

After his shower was over, Harry, now fully clean and awake, walked down the stairs to the kitchen, where he started making a meal. Only, instead of his regular cooking for one, he ended up preparing breakfast for the entire Weasley family. Hermione, now firmly used to his early waking habits –a habit that Sirius would regularly curse most vehemently- slunk up to his side like a shadow and, without words, took over one of the pans that Harry was currently trying to monitor. A grateful smile sent her way, Harry than turned over to make sure that the food was getting cooked fully.

One by one, the Weasleys came down the stairs, first was Bill, who Harry sent a nod of greeting to. Then, followed Fred, George, and Charlie, who all stepped into the room at the same time, which was quite the feat, considering that they did it in perfect synchronisation. (Later, Fred would swear that he and George didn't plan any of it) Mister and Missus Weasley followed shortly thereafter.

"Oh, Harry. You shouldn't have." Was Missus Weasley's inevitable first comment, shortly followed by. "Those absolutely dreadful muggles, why do they make you cook like that!" Harry bit back some laughter at that comment since he'd not seen his relatives since the first day of summer and the Weasleys knew that.

"Nice food, Potter." Charlie said, after his third helping of eggs. At such time the youngest Weasleys decided to put in an appearance.

While Ginny practically pranced down the stairs and into her spot, Ron just rumbled down the stairs like a pack of any herd animal that one could care to name. After stuffing his face for a good five minutes, during which time he consumed five eggs, two large glasses of pumpkin juice, and two rashers of bacon, an overall impressive feat, Ron looked up and said simply, "good." Then went back to his eating.

After the family had all eaten, Harry made to pick up, but he was pushed back into his seat by an irate Missus Weasley, who told him quite firmly: "Conserve your energy, you have to walk to the game later today." Exactly how not picking up the dishes would save energy, however, Harry knew not.

"Well," Mister Weasley said in a voice that he hoped would be impressive. "We'd better go get to Stoatshead Hill."

And, with that said, the group of five Weasleys (Fred, George, Ron and Ginny) and Harry and Hermione, left the comfort of the Burrow and walked out into the starless morning, their destination barely visible ahead of them.

**.oOo.**

Cross's eyes snapped onto the red blast and tried to think of something to do to protect his neighbour, if only to pump him for information later. Then, he aimed at the furious red blast with his pistol and started unloading his clip into it, the bullets passed right through the spell, however, and impacted into several portraits, whose residents looked highly affronted and left their frames muttering obscenities.

Cross looked on as the blast slammed right into the head of his neighbour and swore viciously, didn't this idiot know how much paperwork this would mean? He quickly reloaded his pistol and pointed it at the person who'd killed his neighbour. "Who are you?" He asked, his voice a dangerous growl.

"Franklin Johnson, Auror, Department of Magical Law Enforcement. You?" The man replied, his voice the same as Cross's.

"Michael Cross, MI-5." Cross waited for something, anything, to tell him that this 'auror' –the word felt clumsy on his lips- recognised MI-5 and wouldn't blast him like he did his neighbour.

"Well Mister Cross, I suggest you walk away from Mister Crouch here and let me examine him." Johnson ordered, clearly feeling that he had the upper hand in the jurisdiction argument that was sure to follow.

"I can't do that, see this man was my neighbour. I never knew that he was magical, but he looks different than he did when I saw him last…this morning, I think." Cross replied.

"This man isn't who you think he is. He is Bartamius Crouch…Junior." Johnson replied, watching as the shock rolled around on Cross's face. "Until today I thought he was dead."

"You mean that this guy," Cross gestured to the broken corpse. "Isn't my neighbour?"

"Yes." Johnson replied, as he did a quick once-over of the body.

"Franklin, you think you could do a favour for me?" Cross asked, an idea springing into his mind.

**A/N:**_Alright, alright, I didn't get to the Quidditch World Cup, but I promise that I'll get to it next chapter. RtP is on an indefinate Hiatus right now, my muse for that evidently decided to play in a minefield._


	9. Chapter Nine

**Chapter Nine**

**A/N:**_No lie this time, I got to the Quidditch World Cup! With 32000 words written and more to follow…_

_I'm also not dead…yet._

Harry had to gasp with shock as he saw Cedric and his father on the Hill, he'd realised, intellectually, that this was, of course, possible, but he'd never fully prepared himself emotionally for this…not that he'd had a lot of time to prepare himself for anything.

"Morning Arthur!" Mister Diggory called to Mister Weasley. "How's the family doing?"

"Pretty good Amos, pretty good. And how about yours?" Mister Weasley replied in a genial voice.

"Every body's doing good, now Ced and I have been very excited about the game, of course, but the Misses… well she was right ticked that we are going and she isn't, but, as I've said to her before, if you don't enjoy the game, then why bother going?" He shrugged. "Woman, can't live with them…can't live without them!"

"Did you find the Portkey?" Mister Weasley asked patiently after Mister Diggory had finished, his foot tapping furiously, trying to wait through his small speech.

"No, I was just about to ask you that." Mister Diggory replied, frantically searching for something over his left shoulder for something. "Seems that I can't find it."

The groups then split and combed over the hill, trying to find the elusive Portkey, Cedric found it on the far east side of the hill, and held it up proudly. "Found it!" He called happily, and Fred and George cast angry looks at the other, they still hadn't forgiven Cedric for beating them last year in Quidditch. Hermione, thankfully, missed their looks, and instead walked over with Harry to Cedric and his prize.

"Alright then," Mister Weasley said, "you just put you finger on it and wait until it goes off." He pulled out an archaic pocket watch, and started counting down the seconds. "Five…four…three…two…one…now!"

All of a sudden, the flash of colour that accompanied a Portkey suddenly came into existence, and they were no longer at the hill…nor where they at the Campground…they were _In Between_.

The Void was a place that was described by people as either haunting or beautiful; it usually ran with your tastes in things. It was a place of total nothingness, and it was a place that all Portkeys tapped into to go from one place to another instantly. Also, you existed in it for a grand total of half a second each time you used a Portkey, so it wasn't something that you say a lot of, except that it was nothing.

Then, in another flash of colour and light, they were at the Campground for the Quidditch World Cup.

"Ten O'clock from Stoatshead Hill." An official sounding voice said from behind them as the group rematerialised in a clearing that Harry knew to be near the Campground. "Hello, Arthur, Amos."

"Hello, Newkirk. How's your day been?" Mister Weasley replied, while Mister Diggory looked off to the side, uncomfortable.

"Ruddy boring. You wouldn't believe half the people I have to put up with! Just yesterday, the Greengrasses came by, wanting another site, but I couldn't help them…I just might lose my job over that!" 'Newkirk' looked down at his watch. "You'd better move, I've got a rather rambunctious group from Wales coming in soon."

"Thanks, I'll see you at work after this match is over."

"You too, Arthur. Your campsite is the other way!"

With a blush, Mister Weasley turned around and started walking in the direction that 'Newkirk' had pointed, Harry and Hermione hiding their mutual sniggers.

After walking down the path for a distance Ron suddenly turned and pinned Harry against one of the large trees that lined the path. Ron's eyes were wild and crazy, his eyes, Harry could've sworn, were flashing red, and they were truly portals into the soul…and they revealed Ron's temper to its fullest.

"What are you playing at Ron?" Harry croaked out, as Ron's arm had landed right across his neck, cutting off his air supply. "What are you thinking!"

"What ever you do, Harry!" Ron snapped, his voice betraying the depths of his madness. "Just stay away from Hermione! You're supposed to go and marry Ginny and I'm supposed to marry 'Mione!"

_.:'Mione!:._'Mione' sniggered in Harry's head. _.:Can you get even less unimaginative? And, does he really think that I'd like that name!:._

Something of Harry's humour must've shown in his face, because Ron redoubled his efforts. "You stay away from 'Mione! Just, stay away! I don't care what you do, but you can't have her, not at all!"

"You really expect me to leave my best-friend?" Harry said, dumbfounded, "just because you feel that we're getting too close for your comfort? You think that I'd give up my best friend, just because you're the jealous suitor who's jealous of the wrong man?"

Harry's words, evidently, were not the best words that he could've chosen at that moment, in fact, on a list of the worst things he could've said, they probably rated very near the top of the list, surpassed only by: _'piss off, you sodding bastard'_. Harry's words, combined with having to really think, strained Ron enough to the point where he simply dug his arm even deeper into Harry's throat.

Harry was now seeing black around the edges of his vision, but he'd be damned if he called out for help, especially with Ron's eyes, it looked like he was capable of murder. Instead he started thrashing around, trying to grab Ron's arm and pull him off his throat, but all he ended up doing was enraging Ron and expending valuable energy._.:Hermione……he…:._ Then the black that had been slowly working its way into his vision overwhelmed him and he fell crumpled up, on the side of the forest path.

**.oOo.**

Hermione was, by nature, a calm person when faced with a difficult situation that was really happening. So, when Harry had started to say her name, she'd simply waited for him to finish his sentence… But she'd waited…and waited…and waited…until she just couldn't take it any longer. She looked over at Mister Weasley, who seemed oblivious to the drama that had just taken place almost a hundred metres behind him; instead he was looking up with bright eyes towards the shack where a muggle ran the campsite.

"Now Harry…Harry?" Mister Weasley said, looking around. "Have you seen Harry?" He asked at the same time Hermione did. When he noticed this, he simply looked to Fred and George and stared.

They eventually got the message and went down the path, looking for Harry, Hermione ran to catch up to them.

"I think he's up here!" Hermione said, her voice sounding like a perfect stranger's, so confident and in control, when, inside, she was ripping out her hair.

Fred and George nodded as one and started to sprint ahead, trying to find Harry…before something really, really bad happened to him, as the kid just had the talent of having stuff happen to him.

"Oi! What are you trying to do to me!" Hermione felt Ron's voice wash over her like a bucket of cold water…and it was just about as welcome.

She looked up at Ron and asked him in a dead level voice. "Where is he?"

"Where is who?" Ron asked, his voice betraying nothing, his countenance betraying nothing, and his gestures showing that only he was in control of this conversation.

"Harry." A cold stranger's voice said using Hermione's mouth. "Where is he?"

"I know nothing! I saw nothing! I heard nothing!" Ron shouted, as the twins held both his arms and gave them an experimental twist. "Really, I don't know!"

"Sorry little brother." Fred said as his twin dropped Ron's arm. "Here's something to make up for it." He extracted a piece of candy that was bright orange in colour. "All yours…Sorry." George continued as Fred dropped his other arm.

"Gee, thanks." Ron said, and, unlike one would expect, he opened up the wrapper, and ate the candy…never mind the fact that it came from Fred and George. "Ugh!" His tongue started to grow as soon as he'd swallowed the toffee… and it continued to grow, and grow…

But, nobody was there to see, as Fred, George, and Hermione had walked further up the trail, and continued the search for Harry.

**.oOo.**

"So, Cross, this favour of yours." Johnson asked after the so-called Ministry of Magic –whatever the hell that was- came and bagged the body, and the two men walked to the nearest bar. "What does it entail?"

"Basically," Cross drunkenly slurred. "It involves you telling my hard-nose boss that magic is real, and demonstrating it to him. You see… never mind, its too much work to explain."

"I can guess the basics." Johnson said, as equally drunk. "You looked at a bunch of old cases, figured out that only Magic could've caused all of them, and proposed the idea to your boss, who laughed you out of his office. Am I right… or am I right?" Johnson looked the Cross and down at the three steins on the table. "We haven't had nearly enough beer!" he declared. "Now you've got me believing in magic!"

Cross laughed, drunkenly, "I've heard it does exist…"

"Who ever told you that…" Johnson took a good swig of his beer. "Has to be a certifiable nut-case."

Cross cut his drunken impression. "You really aren't that drunk, and you really are trying to hide your existence…aren't' you?"

"So, what if I am?" Johnson replied, his drunken impression falling away like a shed skin. "Wouldn't you?"

"Yeah…I pro'abaly would… Now, lets get truly drunk… I need it." Cross looked up at the other man, "and I'm guessing that you need it too."

"Sounds like a plan, Mike, sounds like a plan." The two men shook on it, and proceeded to do just that, get thoroughly and truly drunk.

**.oOo.**

They found him lying propped up against the tree, his head leaning forward, and his breathing ragged. The front of his throat was inflamed, and his eyes were closed, it was, sadly enough, the most peaceful that the Weasleys had ever seen him. He wasn't conscious, that much was obvious even to the medically illiterate –which the Weasleys were- but, his injuries were mainly superficial, mostly to the effect of having very little air in his system.

Hermione was relieved that he was okay, and it showed on her face, but she had no idea of how they were to lift him, a problem that the Twins quickly solved by simply picking Harry up between the two of them. He was depressingly light, even after living at Sirius's 'cottage' and they lifted him up easily and without waking him.

The group set off down the path and walked to where Mister Weasley was on the verge of cursing the man conducting the stand in his frustration. There he was frantically asking the man which bill was which, using the most horrible Russian accent that anybody in the area had heard.

"But I don't know vitch bill iz vitch!" Mister Weasley was yelling. "Zhere, I ztand in ze line fer zebenteen hourz, and novody 'ere can 'elp me?" Hermione had to stifle a giggle as she listened to Mister Weasley's horrible accent.

"Here, Uncle Giorgy," she said, finally taking pity on the hapless man. "This bill is a twenty," she said, handing him a twenty. "This one is a five, and this one is a one. Do you understand, Uncle Giorgy?"

"_Da_," Mister Weasley replied in passable Russian. He then turned to Mister Roberts, the man running the stand, and asked him in perfect Queen's English. "Now, how much do I owe you?"

"Twenty…twenty-five." Roberts replied, his voice trembling.

"Ah, thank you, my good man." Mister Weasley said, and turned around just as a man appeared out of nowhere and cast a memory charm upon Roberts, who handed Mister Weasley back the entire twenty-five pounds and wished him a Happy Christmas.

The man then walked away muttering, "Just to keep him happy I have to_obliviate_ him three times an hour! Why do I do this job!"

Then Mister Weasley noticed Harry. "Molly is not going to like this." He muttered to himself, followed by: "where's Ron?"

The Twins only looked between themselves and laughed.

Sighing to himself, Mister Weasley led the march to their spot at the campsite.

**.oOo.**

"Wesley…Wes…Ahh, here we are, Weasley!" Mister Weasley muttered as the walked down the rows of tents, or, in their case, places to pitch their tents, with signs in front of them, bearing last names. They walked forward and looked around the site.

They then jumped when Mister Weasley dropped the rucksack holding the tent and pegs, and everything that they'd need inside the tent that wasn't already inside. Looking down at the rucksack, Mister Weasley then grinned like a maniac, "lets set this up the muggle way!" He cried, his voice sounding inordinately overjoyed. He then set the tent pegs and the tent apart and looked down at it. "Uh…Anybody have any idea of what we're supposed to do?"

Harry stifled a laugh as Hermione rushed forward to help Mister Weasley with the tent; her face eager to try and figure it out for herself, even though she'd never tried doing it before.

**.oOo.**

It took them about an hour to set up the tent, all told, mainly because it hadn't been until half an hour in that Mister Weasley had remembered that the instructions had been enclosed with the sack. After that, it was short work to put the tent together and place the pegs in to secure it.

Once they were done, the group stood back to examine their handiwork. It wasn't exactly beautiful, but it was well done…The only problem was that it was too small to house any of them, and the smaller tent that was alongside it didn't look large enough for two. "Ah, Mister Weasley, how are we going to fit inside?" Hermione vocalised her thoughts.

Mister Weasley smiled at that question and lifted up the flap at the opening. "Come on it, all, I'll show you…and you too Harry!"

When the walked into the Tent, Harry and Hermione whistled appreciatively, Harry mostly for show, Hermione because it was neat. "I imagine it's a series of enlargement charms and something else… though I can't tell what." Hermione said, looking around at the greatly expanded tent. "What's the other spell on the tent?" She asked, turning to look at Mister Weasley.

"It's actually a toughening charm." Mister Weasley said uncomfortably, "with the extra space, the rest of the tent has to be toughened so that it can take the extra stress." He looked around furtively, "now, don't tell anybody that I told you that… I could lose my job." His eyes then focused on Harry. "That also goes for you."

Both teens nodded, the gravity of the situation being fully realised by both.

"Alright then, lets get all moved in." Mister Weasley said after doing a quick 360 of the tent.

**.oOo.**

"You know, Cross…" Johnson slurred, "you're not really a gad buy, really. You're justh fine."  
"Thank you…Johnsthon." Cross said, slurring his words drunkenly too. "This scotch is really…good, wher'd you get it?"

"It's something my uncle gaf me when I become of age…its," he brought the bottle up to read the label. "Unreadable. I don't know where thith stuff came from."

"I'm going to need to get to work soon…" Cross said, looking down at my watch. "You wouldn't happen to have something like a…" he struggled for a moment, his eyes screwed up as if trying to remember something. " Anti-drunkenness potion, or something?"

"Dammit." Johnson muttered. "What does it take to make you forget?" His drunkenness sliding partly off. "Let me think…. "_No Drunken-o!_" He cried, waving his wand… and causing several of the bars patrons to look strangely at him. Surprisingly enough, however, a stream of blue appeared out of the wand, and, after hitting Cross, caused his inebriation to disappear.

"Thanks… my boss would have my arse if I appeared on the job drunk… well, half drunk."

"I suppose you'll want me to come, and back up your story?" Johnson said, sighing and pocketing his wand.

"Yes." Cross said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, which it probably was.

"Okay." Johnson sighed, as he grabbed onto Cross's arm and concentrated on Saint Mungo's entrance.

After a brief cracking noise, they appeared right inside the building, the entrance was open and waiting for them to exit. They walked out, through the door, and appeared outside, in central London, after looking around quickly, they opened the door and exited the storefront. Once outside, Cross took the lead and they started walking toward the MI-5 building.

Cross opened the outside door and walked into the short hallway where he had to swipe his card and sign for his ingress as well as Johnson's. Next to Johnson's name, he simply wrote the ambiguous word, Consultant. With his task done, Cross opened the other door, which had been unlocked when his card had been swiped, and walked into the front lobby.

The front lobby of the MI-5 building was not as impressive as one would think that it would've been, in fact, it was quite drab. The walls were all painted a utilitarian grey, and there hung only the occasional piece of art to add colour to the building. There were no fancy water fountains or inscribed words on the walls, or anything else fancy, the whole building reeked to high heaven of cost cutting.

After nodding to the receptionist, Cross walked over to the far left end of the building, having to navigate his way through several cubical farms, and reached the elevators. There were seven in all, but only two were callable from the ground floor, and, after Cross pressed the call button, one of the elevator doors opened and he walked in, Johnson in tow.

The level selections in the elevator were rather basic, only having to choose between the ground, first, and third floors. Pressing the third floor button with resignation, Cross started the long trek to his office.

After fifteen minutes, the two finally walked into Cross's office. The office, while not very messy, was not, in any sense, clean. In fact, the office was highly disorganised, with legal pads strewn about the desk, and printouts scattered over the floor.

"Make yourself comfortable." Cross said, after moving a stack of computer printouts off the desk and grabbing yet another yellow legal pad and a ballpoint. "We're going to be here for a while."

"That we are…" Johnson tiredly agreed, looking up at the clock on Cross's computer. "Where do you want to begin?"

"Well…to begin with… Does magic exist?"

**.oOo.**

The game had been awesome! In fact, that put it lightly, in the opinion of everybody who watched the game it had been one of the best games of Quidditch played in the past half century, only Albus Dumbledore could've seen a better game. While Bulgaria had possibly the best Seeker in the World, Ireland had a strong Keeper, some great Chasers, and their Seeker wasn't any pushover.

While Bulgaria had caught the Snitch, it was hollow, since they didn't have enough points to eclipse Ireland's score…even with the extra 150 points, Ireland's Chasers were just that much more determined and skilled than Bulgaria's. When Krum had caught the Snitch, the entire stadium, Irish and Bulgarian supporters alike erupted into cheers. The Bulgarians a little bit more enthusiastically until their minds caught up enough to do math in their heads… and they found out that the lost.

After the game, the path from the Pitch was flooded with people as they were headed back to the campsite; the lanterns that they'd seen on their way in were lit, casting an ethereal green along the path. After they made it back to the campsite and found their tent, the group sat around the table set in the main tent.

Ron was now able to drink, thanks to a quick charm from Mister Weasley, and he was regaling the entire group with his tale of his trip back. "After being left for dead." He said, his voice showing depths of sorrow. "I sat there for a few minutes, my tongue filling up my mouth and then growing to a size almost unmanageable, when I staggered up and walked to the tent." His story went on about how the people had mistaken him for an Unspeakable, which was now his career choice due to this incident.

"He really was brought in by the Minister of Magic." Giggled Ginny, now punch-drunk. "He was being a… 'Disturbing Influence on the Whole of the Campsite'. Percy nearly wet himself when the Minister came, pulling a rebellious Ron with him." Harry thought it was funny, so he quickly related the story to Hermione, who snorted into her hot chocolate. This caused Ginny to raise an eyebrow and mentally file the occurrence under the heading: "Weird Harry and Hermione Things" along with a note to be more watchful of the girl poaching on her territory!

With her vow made, the littlest Weasley turned back to her drink and finished it in one gulp. Looking up, she noticed that Hermione had fallen asleep on Harry's shoulder and Harry on the wall. Narrowing he eyes, Ginny mentally went through all the names she would've liked to call the girl who was moving in on _her_ Harry. Her response, however, went unnoticed, and everybody else in the tent just lowered their conversation level, and then, eventually, went to bed.

**.oOo.**

**Boom.**

**Boom.**

**Boom.**

The loud noises outside the tent woke Harry and, by proxy, Hermione, together, they looked around quickly, only to notice Mister Weasley running around the tent frantically. "You lot!" He shouted, trying to get over the noise. "You'll go into the forest! Stay together! Fred and George." He said to the twins. "You're responsible! Don't let any of them get hurt!" He looked around at the rest of the group. "Alright, Bill, Charlie, Percy, let's try and break through the Irish, and beat some sense into them!"

Harry knew that this wasn't the Irish, but elected to keep his mouth shut, mainly so as to not draw attention to himself. He looked around cautiously as he followed Fred, George, Ron and Ginny out the tent flap, and noticed the Death Eaters off to his left.

Just like last time, they were grouped up in a small pack, hoisting torches as they lifted up Roberts, his wife, and his kids magically. They laughed as they forced the group to spin around in the air, as if bound. As much as it pained him to, Harry turned around and followed Fred and George.

A few flashes of light and fifteen minutes later, Harry and Hermione were separated from the Weasley contingent, and were quickly forced in another direction.

Suddenly, Harry found Hermione and him surrounded by Death Eaters, all dressed in their black robes, their white masks looking like laughing skulls.

"What do we do with the Potter Brat?" One Death Eater asked. "He killed our Master."

"Yes he did, Augustus, yes he did." A taunting female voice responded. "I say we kill him!"

"What about the girl?" A nasally male voice asked. "She looks to be about the right age?"

"Shut up, Nero!" The woman replied. "You and your perverted fantasies! The Dark Lord tolerated it, but you know that I won't stand for it!" The woman pondered the question for a moment. "We kill them both." She said simply. "On three. One, two, three."

With the count down done, and all matters of ceremony appeased, the Death Eaters raised their wands as one, and pointed them at the two teens. "_Avada Kedava_." They intoned as one, and small jets of bright green light erupted from their wands and traversed the distance from their tips to the teens within a second. But Harry, with his Seeker reflexes, and some experience in such matters, moved aside instantly, and pushed Hermione to the other side.

However, Hermione was heavier then he remembered, and when he pushed her, he only brought here off balance, and Harry watched, in horror, as thirteen spells connected with her. He could feel her pain as if it were his own, and he knew that the Killing Curse was not painless as it had been claimed to be, in fact, it was quite the opposite. He felt their/her nerves erupt one by one, and their/her cells all die. He felt their/her body's life leaving, and their/her fight to live, to grow, to prosper, and, worst of all, he felt the futility of it. Worst of all, he felt half of their mind break, and he felt that she was gone.

He cradled Hermione's lifeless body in his lap, and he gently brushed her hair away from her face, and he looked down upon it as if it were a treasure beyond price. He stroked her hair and cupped her face, thinking of everything that he'd left unsaid, and undone. Then, as he stared down upon her, he noticed something, a glint of gold around her neck!

He reached down and pulled upon the chain, eventually lifting the gold chain off her head and into his hand. _A time turner!_

Knowing what he had to do, and, in the same moment, how illegal it was. Harry lifted his best-friend's head out of his lap, and set her gently on the ground. He then took the time turner and placed it around his neck, looking down at it he saw that it was the same one that they'd used in his Third Year. _Three turns should do it_. Harry thought to himself, and he picked it up, and turned the hourglass attached three turns. Each turn deliberate, and implacable.

Then, he disappeared from sight.

**A/N:**_Why do I have the feeling that I'm going to be yelled at for: A) Killing a main character. And B) Messing with time even more!_

_I bet that nobody foresaw this! I'd had this scene in mind for a long time, and thought that this year was as good a year as any to use it. (In HP, not real life) Somebody's pointed out that you couldn't use an American Oven/stove in the UK, I know this, we in the US use 115V, the UK uses 220/230V, and I wanted to fill space and slightly lighten up the mood._

_Also, the sobriety spell, that is just a slightly drunk man trying to get it to work, after all, Magic is more intent than words. _

_Hope to see you in Chapter 10… and don't kill me for how long this took!_


	10. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten 

Time is relative. That had been drilled into Harry's head ever since he'd attended the second grade, with his teacher, Missus Preston. She'd told them much more, taught them much more, but that was the only thing that had really stuck with Harry, mainly because it really applied to his life. But, if anybody had tried telling him that it was possible to move back in time, in order to alter it, then he would've said that they were crazy.

But, this never really occurred to Harry right now, as he was watching time reverse itself back three hours. No, the only thing that was on Harry's mind was how he would be able to save Hermione… That and how he would be able to duplicate the effect her dying had had on his mind.

He currently had absolutely no idea how, but figuring that out was for a different time, now he had to act.

When the effect ended, Harry found himself standing where he began, which was a good thing. He checked all his limbs, making sure that they were intact, and also he checked his vision for spots, both of which checks ended up with results that weren't detrimental. After that was done, he checked to make sure that the time turner he'd used was still with him…it was.

Sighing to himself with relief, Harry wondered to himself, just how the hell was he going to do this? During this time, he started walking towards the campsite, but then changed direction, realising that being around the tents right now would not be a good idea.

He turned around and was surprised to see several people walking along a previously unseen path that led into the clearing. Looking beyond the path, Harry realised that it led directly to the campsite.

Hiding himself in the shadows, Harry listened in on the conversation taking place.

"But, Julius," A woman's voice was saying. "How will we attack the Potter-brat? He should have more security on him than any Gringott's vault, and, failing that, if he's hurt, the Ministry might actually do something!"

"Quiet, Evelyn, you forget that I have a lot of… influence in the Ministry. Now that Crouch is dead, the only senior Department Head that I haven't been able to buy off remains Amelia Bones… I hope that she'll be the next one to snuff it… but I doubt that fate will be so fortuitous. But, at any rate, with Lucius out of the picture, his network, and influence, is mine to wield!

"You also forgot that I know Potter. Not well, I'll be the first to admit that, but I know him well enough to know what he'll do. First, we threaten a friend of his, then we follow through with that threat. It'll be like taking candy from a baby… or, better yet, killing flobber worms." Julius' smile darkened. "Except not as hard." His eyes quickly darted around the clearing, seeing nobody, he cast a spell on himself that obscured his face and then he cast another spell that changed his robes into Death Eater's robes. Another spell followed that one too, this spell apparently conjured up his Death Eater's mask, but this didn't seem like conjuring since he held the mask like one would a dear friend, if this hard looking man was capable of having dear friends. He then placed the mask on his head and snapped it in place. "Remember, Evelyn, if nothing else, we are to kill the Potter-brat's friend!" He snapped from inside the mask. "Everything else is secondary!" A snap-crack was heard and Julius disappeared from view.

"That's perfectly clear… asshole!" Evelyn whispered, and then she looked over at the rest of her group. "Alright, you heard the man! Let's get into our positions!"

The group quickly scattered and soon their bodies became almost invisible against the inky blackness of the night, in fact it was only because Harry knew where they were that Harry was able to see them. Looking down at his watch, Harry realised that there was about an hour and a half to go until the attack happened… assuming that the time-turner was set to hours. Kneeling down in the grass, he scooped up some rocks and lifted them above his head experimentally, finding that they worked just fine, Harry turned his mind to becoming invisible.

_I can't really use magic now, can I?_ He thought to himself. _The Ministry will just put me on trial like they did last… no, the summer before fifth year. I wonder if the Ministry can detect magic that doesn't leave the body? That would make this so much easier!_

Unbeknownst to Harry, his body and clothing slowly turned translucent and almost invisible for anybody who didn't know that he was there to see. Harry continued trying to apply his mind to the task, but found that one summer of actually doing homework did not make up for five years of slacking. _That's one thing I'm going to have to change!_ Harry thought to himself.

He then had to look down at his hands… something wasn't right, they weren't there! After about a minute of thinking about the ramifications of this, Harry's face split into a large grin.

_Let's do this!_

He slowly stood up and started to transverse the edge of the clearing, trying to get to the closest Death Eater that he could. After about four minutes of moving himself over silently, Harry was rewarded to be within throwing distance of the Death Eater. Smiling grimly to himself, Harry hefted the rock he'd picked up and gave it a throw towards the Death Eater.

The rock flew as true as it did fast… which is to say that it hit the Death Eater at velocities that could be lightly described as dangerous to be hit at. With a rock that weighed about five kilos, going about ten kilometres per hour…well, that was a lot of force to be suddenly hit with, especially on the nose.

Once the man was down on the ground, Harry took the man's wand and broke it, and then he knelt down next to the man and prepared himself for the most distasteful part of this operation. Rolling up his figurative sleeves, he extended his hands until he came into contact with the Death Eater's neck, then the applied pressure.

The Death Eater, thankfully, was not even close to conscious and also had the grace to die without any theatrics on the face, the type of stuff that would give people nightmares. Once he was dead, Harry removed his robes and placed them on himself, finding that the dead man's robes were just about the right size. Harry also found a spare wand in the man's pocket as well as thirty Galleons and a dagger that appeared to be enchanted. Harry threw the money back at the corpse and then searched for a Death Eater's mask. Realising that the man didn't have one, Harry walked further down the clearing's edge.

Getting right behind the next one, Harry took the dagger, looked briefly at the hilt, and then, looking away, stabbed the next man in the middle of the chest and, after quickly removing the mask, covered his mouth. After almost retching at what he'd done, Harry quickly checked the man for anything useful and found another two wands. Waving them Harry found that only one of the three worked, throwing the other two away, after breaking them, Harry placed the dead man's mask on his face.

It became quickly apparent to Harry why the Death Eater's used these masks, everything in the clearing suddenly lit up and Harry could make out some of the other Death Eaters. He also noticed that his voice sounded like the man he'd just killed when he'd muttered "cool" at looking through the eyes.

Another plan coming together in his head, Harry looked over at the remaining eleven Death Eaters and found that they really could've used a better teacher when learning strategy. They were all bunched up and appeared to subscribe to the theory that being able to direct thirteen spells at a target was better than having to actually aim at the target.

"Ahhhh! My leg!" Harry cried, his voice still sounding like the dead man's. To make things even more realistic, Harry grabbed his leg and seemed to be fighting something off. "Some damn thing just got it… It hurts, almost like a Chimera got it!" Harry gave a moan of pain and doubled over. "Scratch that, feels more like a Hungarian Horntail took a bite out of it!" Harry smiled at the memory of the dragon, but kept his mind on the task of staying alive and in one piece.

The eleven Death Eaters moved as one over to where Harry was, evidently there actually was some camaraderie within the Death Eaters. Harry then drew the wand that he'd stolen and pointed it at the Death Eaters. Remembered how accidental magic worked, he simply concentrated on creating the biggest bang he could where the Death Eaters were standing.

With something sounding like a .44 magnum going off, the wand in Harry's hand blew up, throwing shards everywhere, and the Death Eaters were involved in something that looked like a controlled nuclear explosion from the videos that they'd had to watch in Primary.

Harry looked down at his, now visible, hands and found that a shard of wand wood and some Unicorn hair was stuck in his hand, under the skin. Deciding to throw caution, as well as good sense, out the window, Harry pointing his hand at himself and imitated Kingsly when he'd cast the disillusionment spell on Harry. To his surprise, it actually worked and his hand didn't blow up or anything. Harry then sat down and proceeded to wait for himself and Hermione to show up.

Some time later, Harry looked down at his watch and realised that he'd be arriving soon. With another wave of his hand, Harry concentrated on creating the illusion of the Death Eaters' being there.

Grabbing his real wand in his off hand, Harry then banished the dead men's items and moved off to the shadows to wait.

Harry watched himself and Hermione run into the clearing and directed the illusions to act as he wanted them to. He then brought his wand up and pointed it at himself. "_Legimens_" He was inside his mind, looking at the events, and felt himself thinking that they weren't real.

Quickly forming a thought, Harry brute forced his memory of the event into the other's subconscious and tricked his brain into believing his eyes. Then the difficult part began.

He tricked the other into thinking that a Death Eater and sent the Avada Kedava at Hermione, who, thanks to their bond, believed what Harry did now. He stepped Harry through the entire process and, when the spell hit him, Harry said a quick prayer to whoever was listening, and did the same to him though the spell link. He then pulled out of his mind and watched as Harry took Hermione's Time Turner –here Harry felt at the gold hourglass nestled on his chest- and vanished. The circle was complete.

Harry quickly knelt down by Hermione and placed the Time Turner back around her neck and brought his wand down to her temple. "_Ennevate_." He said quietly and watched with bated breath as Hermione slowly opened her eyes.

_.:Hermione ?:._ He asked quietly, hoping that she could sense him.

_.:Yes ?:._ She replied, her voice had never sounded more beautiful to Harry nor was it more welcomed.

"Thank God." Harry said, and he wrapped her in a tight hug. "Don't you ever do that to me again!" He said.

It was there that the owl found him.

_Dear Mister H. Potter,_

_We have received intelligence that you have cast a waking charm at approximately 11:56 PM (2356) on 2 August of this year. Now, considering that you have received the warning from Hogwarts as well as an Owl from my office previously, it stands to reason that you will be required to attend a hearing on the 6__th__ of this month at 11:15 AM (1115) in order to clear this matter._

_Hoping that you are well,_

_Mafalda Hopkirk,_

_Improper Use of Magic Office._

Harry looked down at the letter and groaned not another hearing! For the same reason! On close to the same date too! He vaguely wondered what had to be done to escape this letter in his time, but quickly dismissed the thought as his thoughts took a rather dark turn.

"What's that?" Hermione asked, looking down at the parchment in Harry's hands. "You got a letter for waking me!" She shrieked. "That can't be right!"

Harry sighed. "Let's try to meet up with the rest of the group." He suggested in a tired voice.

Hermione readily agreed and they stood up and walked away from the clearing, though Hermione's voice could be heard berating the Ministry of Magic for its policies.

**.oOo.**

"Now, Johnson," Cross asked. "Now that you've outlined some of the recent history of the Wizarding World, could you please explain to me the difference in culture?" Cross's voice was tired, and he had good reason to be! They'd been at this for several hours; each man was exhausted, but unwilling to stop.

"Well…" Johnson brought his hands up into his hair, and tried to think… "There was a book written oh, two years ago or so. It was written by Aberforth Dumbledore and dealt with the differences between the Muggle World and the Magic World, in fact it was written as a AD&D supplement, whatever the hell that is!" Johnson laughed tiredly, he then looked up at the clock Cross had in his office. "Well, it's almost twelve thirty, so I think that we'd better call it a day." He had to stifle a yawn and then continued. "But, have somebody check out the book and you'll find everything you can about the Magic World in there." Johnson stretched and screwed up his face, trying to concentrate on something.

"Do you mind if I kip out on your couch?" Johnson eventually asked, his face reddening. "I can't apparate home." He looked at Cross's confused face. "Take my body from here to another place through," he yawned, "magic." He yawned again and then looked sheepishly at Cross. "Sorry, I'm still not quite used to these hours."

Cross nodded understandingly at Johnson. "I know, you should've seen my first week here! I had the craziest hours out of anybody here, but, as I was told, Morning only matters on where you are." Cross looked out the window. "But, yeah, use the couch, that's why I have it in here. Though my boss thought I was crazy for having it!" Cross cracked a small, tired grin and sat back down at his desk and pulled out, yet another, yellow legal pad.

On this one he started outlining what he knew about the Wizarding World along with what he hoped to know by the end of the next day. Looking up at his clock several hours later, Cross decided that sleeping was a good idea, but, before he could do that, he walked out of his office and made his way to Hannah's desk. Seeing that she had fallen asleep at her desk, Cross wrote a quick note and placed it on her computer screen.

_Hannah,_

_Please set up a meeting between the boss and I for 1500 today (2/8) it's on you-know-what. Yes, I have witnesses._

_You should sleep more,_

_Mike._

Satisfied with his note, Cross walked away and copied Hannah's feat of falling asleep at the desk, he was eternally grateful for the extra comfortable chairs that MI-5 had bought for its employees.

And, without much of a fight, he finally fell asleep.

**.oOo.**

Harry and Hermione finally met up with the rest of the group that they were following; though it took a longer time to meet up with them. When they did they were almost blasted by the Twins' wands.

"Sorry, Harry." Fred said, as he moved his wand to point away from the two stumbling teenagers. "But we've been ambushed by several of these people lately, I don't know why though." He screwed up his face. "Something to do with You-Know-Who."

"Isn't it obvious?" A drawling voice said from behind them. "They are attacking you because you are all sodding blood traitorous!"

Draco Malfoy strode into view, his blonde hair swept away from his head, and his hand dancing around his wand. "I shouldn't be surprised if you end up there," he gestured to the sky, "with those filthy muggles!"

"What?" Hermione asked before she could help herself, her natural curiosity just being too much. "Muggles in the sky?"

"Yeah!" Draco said with pride. "Uncle Julius said that it's their own damn fault! They've built flying contraptions, but they refuse to show them to us! Since they're obviously lying, we're showing them the errors of their ways by making them fly!" Draco's voice swelled with pride, he obviously like his Uncle Julius.

"Hey, Draco." Harry said, since he gauged him to be in an amiable attitude. "Do you mind telling me something about pureblood custom that my education has been severely lacking in?" Harry's voice was earnest. "I mean, what the hell is Dumbledore playing at? Not teaching us about our magical inheritance!"

Draco, who had been caught up in this nodded his head and agreed.

"How do you call in a life debt?"

"Easy." Draco replied, affronted that this ignorant pureblood didn't know how! "You just tell them what you'd like to have happen!" Then Draco's face went white and he stopped talking. Away he walked, rather shell-shocked. He was heard muttering that his mother was going to kill him and how he'd just aided the enemy!

"In that case…" Harry's voice trailed off. "I would like it if Peter Pettigrew just apparated in randomly and cast the Dark Mark spell and then stood there for a little while!" Harry said, his voice evidently just being politely interested.

Pop! Harry heard Peter apparate in, his wand raised to the sky, a defiant sneer in place. "MORDESMORDE!" He cried in a voice unlike his own. A green cloud escaped his wand and then rushed up to the sky to form a green skull with a snake coming out of the mouth. Harry heard several panicked screams as people saw the symbol that was thought to have died out almost thirteen years ago.

Harry, thinking quickly, pointed his wand at the man who had just cast the spell and let loose with a stunner that hit Pettigrew right in the chest. Pettigrew fell down, and hit his head hard.

"Down!" Harry cried as he heard multiple pops. He was thankful that he still remembered this bit, as stunners flew over their heads. "Stop shooting! Stop shooting!" Harry cried as he jumped up. "We didn't cast the Dark Mark! We didn't cast the Dark Mark!"

At once, the group of wizards stopped firing stunners, though they looked surprised to have been yelled at this way and suspicious of Harry's motives.

"I stunned the man who cast it!" Harry said, pointing at Pettigrew's limp form a little ways away. "I believe that you want him in your custody." Harry's voice and outward demeanour were calm, but inside he was almost panicking. _Would they arrest him too?_

"Thank you…" The auror, at least Harry assumed she was an auror, who'd walked up to them said, evidently wanting a name.

"Harry Potter." Harry replied, looking straight up at the auror. "Please, leave my name out of the Ministry documents." He implored when he saw the auror's eyes go wide with the realisation of how much paperwork this was going to mean.

Mister Weasley then chose that moment to show up and quickly gathered the group and herded them to the campsite.

"Who cast it!" He said, looking between the group of friends, trying to receive an answer. "Who cast the Dark Mark?" He asked again, his voice ragged with something akin to fear.

"Peter Pettigrew." Harry replied, looking at Mister Weasley with complete honesty, "Peter Pettigrew cast the Dark Mark." Harry's voice suddenly became harsh. "And I hope to God that what he did nearly thirteen years ago doesn't go unpunished!" Harry's voice was filled with more hatred than any fourteen-year-old was allowed to express, or sixteen-year-old.

Mister Weasley evidently felt that Harry was feeling more hate towards this man than was necessary, so he grabbed Harry's shoulders. "Harry!" He said, his mind racing, trying to figure out why Harry hated this man so much. "This man _did not_ betray your parents to He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named!"

"Yes he did!" Harry said in a quiet voice. "He did, you can ask Ron or Hermione about it, or, better yet, ask Sirius. They'll all tell you about how Pettigrew had been the Secret Keeper for my parents, a double blind, instead of Sirius. Well, Pettigrew was a Death Eater!" Harry had not taken in a breath during his rant, a problem that he'd quickly solved by taking in many breaths of air as fast as he could.

Mister Weasley had not heard this story from Ron and hadn't read the paper the day that Sirius had been absolved of his crimes, and, since his department wasn't involved in the Black Case, he hadn't heard about it at work. But this! This was totally unexpected; he'd never entertained any thoughts about the oldest male of the Black family being innocent. He'd met Sirius during the war and found him to be a man who, if told to, would be able to storm Voldemort's stronghold by himself and live through it. The only way that he would be able to do that, however, was if he killed everyone, not stunning them, and that was what left the bitter taste in Arthur's mouth when he contemplated Black, the fact that he would be able to kill and kill and kill until there was nothing left to be killed.

And it appeared that Harry was much the same, and that scared Arthur.

"So." Arthur said, looked around the group. "Let's go back to bed." He turned and led the way back to the campsite, trusting that they would follow him, which they did.

"Night." Harry said to Hermione and he quickly fell asleep on the couch in the living room portion of the tent.

Ron looked like he wanted to strangle Harry… again, but he restrained himself and went off to sleep. For once, the tent was quiet.

**A/N:** _A little bit later than intended, but I've been having to catch up in school (I've missed 3 days of High School!) and I've been playing a game more often than I'd ever admit to._

_But, I hope that this is what you've been waiting patiently for._

_So, if its not too much trouble, please tell me what you think! Even a flame would be welcome instead of this state of incommunicado!!!_

Eldar 


	11. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven Chapter Eleven

The packing of the tent went rather quickly, and soon enough Harry found himself, Hermione, and the Weasleys standing in the small clearing set aside for the purpose of sending people home with Portkeys. "Hullo, Newkirk." Mister Weasley said in a voice that betrayed how much sleep he'd actually got that night. "I need the soonest available Portkey to Stoatshead Hill."

"Here's one, Arthur." Newkirk said, his voice equally tired. "Saved it, special, for you. Knew your misses would be fretting!" The man removed an empty coke bottle from his sack and handed it to Mister Weasley, who held it by the neck and grouped the rest of the group around him so that they were able to grip it. With a tap of Newkirk's wand, the Portkey returned them to the hill where they'd begun their journey to the Quidditch World Cup, Stoatshead Hill.

Looking across the hill, the entire pack was able to see the village of Saint Ottery-Catchpole and, if they squinted hard enough and used enough of their imagination, the Burrow was also visible. The entire party trudged their way along to the Burrow, somehow able to move at a constant speed for the entire trip and not having to pant like a dog when the trip was over.

Once they were in view of the Burrow, a huge shriek was heard, followed by Missus Weasley running up to them and faster than their eyes could relay the sight to their brain, she stood in front of them. "Oh, Arthur!" She said. "I thought that you had _died_! I haven't been this worried for you since _you-know-who_ was at large!" She uttered another moan of near-despair, and seemed to wilt in front of the groups eyes, Ron, Fred, and George all hid snickers behind coughs, Ginny went to comfort her mother, and Percy looked down at his feet, wondering what he was supposed to do. Arthur seemed to know exactly what his wife needed and hugged her tightly, whispering softly to her.

Harry and Hermione looked uncomfortably around the group and then said together, "I think I'll put my bags away." Darting away from the group, they ran into the Burrow and then proceeded to do exactly as they had said they would.

Stumbling up to 'his' room, Harry grappled with his backpack as it threatened to come off his back several times on the stairs, that or force him to fall off the stairs. Either way, he was preventing something that he thought would be very painful. But, as his luck would have it, as he managed the top stair, the backpack on his back decided that now was a good idea and it slipped off his left arm. He grappled with it with his left arm, but the backpack swung outwards, and backwards, and Harry noticed that the ceiling of the Burrow was made of a very nice wood…

**.oOo.**

"Oh, God!" Cross moaned. "My neck!" Hissing in pain, he turned his head to the left to look over at Johnson, who was still sleeping on the couch. Lowering his head to look at his desk, he saw that the people in requisition had done their jobs wonderfully as The Book had arrived. "Ask and ye shall receive." Cross muttered as he opened the book and started reading it, carefully writing notes in the margins as well as highlighting sentences that seemed important.

As he read the book, Cross garnered the opinion that the Wizards were a bunch of Nuts that believed that if it wasn't gross of disgusting in some way then it wasn't worth their time. He also believed that their world wasn't really all that it had appeared to be cracked up to be. _So, I get to wave a wand and do stuff! _Cross thought, _but what price do I pay?_

After puzzling over that question for a few minutes, Cross decided to stretch his legs a little bit and check if the boss had come in while he was sleeping or reading the book. Navigating his way around the couch he had in his office, Cross managed to work his way to the front of his office without waking the sleeping man on his couch. Sighing in relief, he then opened his door slowly, and slunk out of his room, making next to no noise as he exited.

Cross jogged along the corridors until he made his way to his boss's office, waving at some of the staffers that stuck their heads out of their offices. Once he was in the corridor that the office was in, his pace slowed to a sedate walk and he allowed his breathing to normalise before opening up the door to his boss's office, noting in the back of his mind that he really shouldn't be doing this, after all, it wasn't SOP. And, according to his boss, SOP –Standard Operating Procedure- was everything.

"Cross?" A gravelly voice said from behind the desk in the back of the room as Cross walked into the office. "Is it about Magic?" He asked bluntly.

"Yes, sir." Cross said, "I have absolute proof that would convince anybody who can see with their own eyes."

"Well, what is it?" His boss asked, looking closely at Cross as he walked into the Office fully and stood at attention before his desk.

Cross shuffled his feet anxiously before opening his mouth, "I have in my possession a book that was written by a Wizard as a history book, it was written as an AD&D book, however." Cross's voice stayed in the same professional tone, but he winced as he said it. "But, to counteract that, I have in my office a real live wizard who can help me convince you."

"Really?" His boss asked, relatively nonplussed.

"Yes, sir!" Cross said, "also, you know that store in London that is always closed? The one that we thought was a Soviet nest? Well, it turns out that it's a hospital for Wizards… a Saint Mange's or something like that."

"Sure." A long pause. "Alright, bring in your wizard and be prepared to argue your case."

Cross walked to the door and opened it with his left hand, then as he walked out he turned and looked at his boss. "It is real." He said before he walked out the door.

**.oOo.**

The first thing Harry noticed upon opening his eyes was that his head hurt… a lot. The second thing that he noticed was that his head was on something soft…. Something familiar, nice, comforting…

_.:Hermione?:._ He called tentatively. .:_Where are you?:._

"Holding your head, silly." Hermione's voice said from above him.

The third and forth things Harry noticed would be hard to place in any order, since he noticed them at almost the exact same time. The third thing was that it _was_ Hermione's lap his head was in. And the forth was that his back hurt even more than his head did.

"What happened?" He managed to croak out. _I guess I got the wind knocked out of me_, he thought to himself.

"You fell down the stairs." Hermione said simply. "You probably feel a whole lot worse than you look… though with the cuts, scrapes, and bruises on your face right now, that would be pretty hard."

Harry managed a weak grin, _.:that bad?:._ He asked, trying to lighten the moment, however after he spoke he saw Hermione's face darken. _.:Really?:._ He said, as if in denial. "I never thought stairs could do this to a person…" He coughed as he said that last bit aloud, still unable to get his voice above a hoarse whisper.

"You'd be surprised." Hermione's voice said. Then, "no, don't try to move, we still don't know how much you hurt yourself." She said as Harry tried to move his head up so he could see the world properly. "You fell backwards and stopped on the landing here at Ginny's room. As soon as you'd hit the landing, I'd called for Missus Weasley and the rest, while making sure you were alive…"

It was then that Harry noticed the fifth thing, that his face was very damp, and he hadn't remembered crying, not that he remembered much. Moving his arm up, he brought it up to her face, "hey." He croaked, still cursing his hoarse voice inside. "I'm the stupid one who fell down, not you."

It was then that Misses Weasley decided to make an appearance. "Alright, Harry." She said, "awake?" She smiled when he managed a wan smile. "Good," then, drawing her wand, "_locomotor mortis._"

"Misses Weasley!" Hermione practically shrieked. "Why are you moving him? He could have internal injuries!"

Misses Weasley just looked blankly at Hermione, before continuing as she was and levitating Harry down the stairs and into the kitchen, where she placed him on the dining table. She then threw some floo-powder into the fireplace.

"Hogwarts." She said, and the fire turned emerald.

She then stuck her head into the fireplace and, apparently had a conversation since after a few minutes she removed her head from the fireplace with a satisfied expression on her face.

"I just talked to Albus." She said by way of explanation. "Poppy will be over shortly to check Harry over."

"Madame Pomphry?" Harry managed to croak out, "but, why don't you just check me into a regular doctor's office? Even a muggle would be qualified to check me over!"

"Probably try to bleed you!" A familiar voice said from across the room. "Muggles just don't know as much about medicine as Witches and Wizards do!" The voice continued authoritatively.

"Madame Pomphry!" Hermione said, turning to face the school's nurse.

"Poppy!" Misses Weasley said, "Harry's right over here, on the table."

"What? I thought you said he'd fallen down stairs?" Poppy said, "you know that you aren't supposed to move people after that type of injury, Molly."

"Can you just check him over?" Misses Weasley insisted, the last comment evidently breezing right past her,

Poppy walked over to the table where Harry was lying and almost smiled at the sight of him. "I thought I'd told you that I didn't want to see hide nor hair of you until School was in secession?" She said sternly.

"Yes, Madame Pomphry." Harry said submissively. "So, how long am I going to be bound to this table?"

"We'll see." Was the appropriately vague answer.

**.oOo.**

Cross burst into his boss's office for the second time that day, his breath was coming in short, sharp breaths, and he panted as he spoke. Behind him, another figure –Franklin Johnson- came striding into the office as if he had just walked sedately from Cross's office.

"Alright, Boss, here is the Wizard I ran into, a Mister Franklin Johnson." Cross then grinned. "And, no, he doesn't show up on any of our records. It's as if he was disappeared by somebody."

At Cross's comment, both of the Director's bushy eyebrows disappeared into his wintry mass of hair. "You mean that prior to your meeting him, there is no record of this man in any of our databases?" The Director exclaimed. "And, just how many other's are like this?"

"We don't know." Came Cross's almost immediate answer. "However, Johnson has pointed us in the direction of at least two, both of which are under the age of majority: Messrs Harry Potter and Dean Thomas." At the Director's look of recognition, Cross added, "yes, of the Dean case."

"You've been rather silent throughout this, Mister Johnson." The Director said, his brown eyes boring into Johnson's own blue. "Do you have any thoughts to share with us non-magical folks-"

"Muggles." Johnson spoke for the first time.

"Excuse me?" The Director said, his face showing his exertion at reigning in his temper at being interrupted.

"Muggles, it's the proper term for non-magical folk." Johnson said, as if he was explaining to some miscreant Primary-schoolchild that Red and Green were two different colours, and that, no, two plus two did not equal five, no matter what your Big Brother said.

"Mugles?" The Director said it 'Moogles'.

"No, muggles," Johnson said in the same patient voice. "Mug, as in being mugged, and el-s. Take the Spanish word for the, and add an 's' to the pronunciation. Muggles." He said, his voice trying, and failing, to hide his frustration.

"Muggles?" The Director said again, this time correctly.

"Yes." Johnson said, as he let out a breath that he probably didn't know that he'd been holding. "Please continue."

The Director looked insulted at the implications of the Auror's –actually Special Investigator under the Department Head, but that wasn't important at the time- statement, namely that he needed the Auror's permission to continue.

"Now, look here, Mister Johnson!" He said, his voice deathly quiet, dangerous, controlled. "I don't give a damn about if I don't have Magic, or if you do, but if you think you can dictate to me, you are sorely mistaken." The Director was so angry with the man in front of him, that he dropped the obligatory 'My friend' at the end of that statement.

Johnson looked down at his shoes, ashamed. "I am sorry that it sounded like it did." He finally said by way of apology.

"You damn well better." The Director grumbled. "Anyway, do you have any thoughts that you would deign to share with us lowly muggles?" He said, managing to make his voice sound insulting and yet interested at the same time.

"Well," Johnson said uncomfortably, pulling at his collar. "Well, I guess it couldn't hurt to…. Well, here, you need to have magic proven first, right?" At the Director's nod Johnson flourished his wand and spoke authoritatively.

"_Conjurus_." A steel plate reminiscent of a different era popped into existence before the Director. "_Novo._." He intoned, and the steel plate turned into a bleating lamb, looking blankly at the room full of men. "_Reducto_." He said, and a red spear of light leapt out and struck the lamb, causing bits of raw lamb to fly around the room. "_Scrougify_." He said finally and the remnants of the lamb were cleaned away.

"Any questions?"

**.oOo.**

Peter Pettigrew, as it was said before, was no coward, however he liked to attach himself to the biggest bully on the playground to insure his day to day survival. Currently, the biggest bully was Lord Voldemort, but Peter's life expectancy –at least as he saw it- was not going up, in fact he felt that he didn't have long to live.

Which was why he was doing what he was.

Reaching into his pockets he withdrew a muggle ballpoint pen and some crumpled up pieces of paper that had somehow made their way into his pockets. Clicking the pen, Peter chewed on the tip and then touched it to the paper and began to write.

After the first words were done, he found that it was coming easier and easier to pour out his thoughts. Quickly becoming engrossed in his writing he finished with a stack of five pages of paper, but since his writing was large, it wasn't actually that much.

When he was done, he feverishly folded his last piece of paper into a crude envelope and wrote down the name _Harry J. Potter_ on it before placing his wand next to the flap and muttering a basic sticking charm.

Suddenly, his ears perked up, he heard a noise and looked over his shoulder, nothing was there.

Letting out the breath that had hitched in his throat, he grabbed his owl that had followed him into the Dark Lord's service and tied his letter to its claws with a length of twine. With that finished, he threw the Owl out the window and whispered, "find Harry Potter, he'll know the rest."

The Owl chirped happily and flew away.

Letting out a breath that he hadn't noticed he was holding, Peter turned and walked out of the room he was in… and straight into a wand.

"Going somewhere, Peter?" A malicious voice asked from the wrong end of the wand.

"No…no…no… nowhere special." Peter stuttered, cursing himself inside for doing just that. "Just going to che…che… check on our Lord, after all, he, he needs his feeding."

"He can wait." The malicious voice said in a smooth tone. "I've always wanted to know something Peter… Why did you search out our Lord after your interment?" The voice seemed almost puzzled. "I would've thought that a smart man like you would've thought of the Tracking spells that the Ministry usually places on such high-profile captives, such as yourself."

Peter's forehead started dampening with sweat, _did he inadvertently betray his master? _"I don't think that that would be an issue." He said bravely, his voice never giving any indication as to what he was thinking inside. "I was freed by one of our Lord's deep cover agent?" His voice was questioning the last, unfamiliar words. "Frnak-"

"Delen, I know." The voice interrupted. "He was caught by Aurors last night or so Sang like a canary." The voice was stretching the truth out a little, but he loved the expressions that Pettigrew would produce when frightened.

Peter didn't disappoint. His face tightened up and slackened at the same time, while he produced a strangled sort of noise that died in his throat and somehow managed to escape. "You don't say?" He said weakly. "Well… I guess that our Lord is displeased."

"No." The voice said mirthfully. "I haven't told him, yet. But, who knows, he may learn of it later rather than sooner,."

"What do you want?" Peter said, his voice submissive.

"Tell me how you escaped, both times, exactly as it happened." The voice said, enjoying his power and fully intending to break the deal.

Pettigrew told him.

He wasn't disappointed by the story.

**.oOo.**

"Well, Mister Potter." Poppy said after her examination was finished. "Your spine is not cracked as I had feared, you don't seem to have any serious injuries that was incurred by this incident, though the scar on your hand seems rather recent and incurred by a blood quill, do you want to talk about it?"

Harry considered the Nurse's words before shaking his head and opening his mouth. "Not really." He said, "but you can be assured that it's not likely to happen again. It's almost as if the cause was from another time." His voice was purposefully light, but the mirth that bubbled beneath the surface was not hard to see by most people, in fact even Hermione missed it.

"If you say so, Mister Potter." Madame Pomphry said at his words. "If you believe that the incident will not happen again, I have no choice but to leave it in your hands." With a dignified air, she stood up and pulled Harry up. After looking him over once again for any injuries that might have escaped her notice the first several times, she walked over to the fireplace, yelled "Hogwarts!" into it and with a wave disappeared into the emerald flames.

"So, Harry." Hermione said as she turned to face the Wizard in question. "What's this about a Blood Quill?

"Ummm…." Harry's voice trailed off and he gulped.

Hermione's eyes glinted dangerously as she moved in for the proverbial kill.

**.oOo.**

Albus Dumbledore stood in his office, having finally regained the ability to walk distances without Poppy going crazy about it and ordering him to go the infirmary where he should lie down for a rest. After his experiences in the care of Madame Pomphry, he could finally sympathise with Harry and all the other students who had been forced over the years to stay in the Hospital Wing for any extended period of time.

Of course, he also had had ample time to think over his actions over the years since he'd 'rescued' Harry, and, unlike what his words to Harry before his test might've suggested, he wasn't repentant in the slightest. _After all, I was only doing what was best for the boy, insolent brat, thinking that he could stand up to me!_

Shaking the thought from his head, Dumbledore sat down at the desk that many a Hogwart's Headmaster or Headmistress had occupied, in fact it was the same design as the desk that Rowena Ravenclaw had used when she held the position originally. He looked at all the papers spread across his desk and fished for the most important one, the financial records of a Mister Harry James Potter.

It currently showed that only he and Harry had access to the vault, however, with a malicious smile, he grabbed a piece of parchment from his desk drawers and started writing a note with his distinctive handwriting.

_Gringotts –Account Manager of Harry James Potter_

_Recently I have found that I am in control of who can access Harry James Potter's vault, it appears to me that such power was vested in me on the 30__th__ October 1981, with the death's of James and Lily Potter._

_Now, I would like to exercise my power in such capacity by adding three names to the account access for the trust account that Mister Potter currently enjoys. Those names are: Severus Snape, Draco Malfoy, and Narcissa Malfoy._

If my instructions could be handled quietly and no letter of notice be sent to Mister Potter, it would be highly appreciated… as in extra clot at the Ministry appreciated.

_Signed,_

_Albus P.W.B. Dumbledore._

Adding the bit at the end had been a stroke of genius, at least he thought so, since the Goblins preferred that everything was blatantly stated. At least, that's what Professor Binns had said more than once when Albus had managed to swing by the Ghost's classroom.

With a flourish, he sealed the note in an envelope made of old Goblin skin –a threat that he heard had always worked well- and whistled for Fawkes… who didn't show.

Cursing to himself, he managed to stand up and hike the path to the Owlery and had one of the school owls send the letter to Gringotts…

_Insolent brat deserves all he's going to get!_ A voice within his head sounding like Severus Snape said from within his head.

At least, that was the plan.

**.oOo.**

The Owl took the letter and set off at once for Gringotts bank, the only bank that the English Wizarding World knew and cared to know about. It took the owl an extraordinary two and a half-hours to find its way to Diagon Alley, and, from there, Gringotts.

The Owl was a brown barn owl and it made a crash landing on a Goblin Teller's desk, and the letter came loose from its twine, falling down face up on the desk. Written in the overly extravagant writing that the self-important wizards seemed to favour were the words: _To Account Manager: Potter_.

Seeing these words, the Teller hurriedly finished up the current transaction that he was taking part in, before slamming the grate around his desk shut and said scathingly, "my desk is now, closed." To the mass of witches and wizards who were standing in line.

He then stood up out of his chair, pushed it away, and scurried away –and scurried was the only way that one could accurately describe how Goblins would run when worried.

He managed to run all the way to a very old, highly decorated –almost to the point of gaudiness- door. Then, gulping, he raised his hand and banged on the door twice.

"Enter."

"Account Manager Longtooth." The Goblin said submissively. "'Tis I, Teller (3rd Class) Redclaw. I come bearing a message addressed to you personally."

"Well, let's have it then." Longtooth said as he held out a clawed hand to receive the envelope.

When he had received the envelope, Longtooth ripped it open and read the note through once before grinning like a schoolboy, and strangling a laugh that threatened to break loose and ruin his reputation as a ruthless Account Manager. "Redclaw," he said formally, "it is my wish that you be bonded into my service for the duration of Special Project _Nefrag_," he said, using the Goblin word for 'Treason'. "Do you so accept?" He said, still in the formal voice.

"Yes, my Liege, I so accept." Redclaw said in a reverent voice.

"Then rise _Weig_ Redclaw." Longtooth said, using the Goblin title that most closely translated into English as 'Liegeman.'. "And please fetch the Special Files for Severus Snape, and Draco and Narcissa Malfoy." He said, smiling a toothy smile as only a predator could. "It seems that our Liege's Guardian is taking too much authority."

"At once my Liege." Redclaw said, smiling in the same manner as he stood up and strode from the room.

**A/N:** _And so we are at the end of this chapter… It _has _been awhile since the last update, and, truth be told, this last chapter was banged out over the past few days. But, as I have stated before, I do not intend to ever abandon this story._

_Hopefully this meets with expectations._


	12. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

"Harry?" A tentative voice said from the doorway. "Harry, are you alright?"

It was Ron's voice.

"Harry, you're not angry about what happened yesterday, are you?" Ron continued. "I don't know what came over me, it was like a sudden blast of anger, all directed at you for some reason… I can't say anything but I'm sorry." Ron's voice held so much despair that, for a moment, Harry almost honestly forgave him.

Instead, he hardened his heart and said what he had planned to say. "Ron, I'll accept your apology." _When Hell freezes over_, he didn't add aloud. He still held on to his bitterness and anger towards Ron, after all, he tried to kill him!

"Thanks Harry!" Ron said, cracking a relieved smile. "I knew I could count on you to forgive me!" He paused. "Do you think you could talk Hermione into doing the same?"

Before Harry had opened his mouth to say that he would do no such thing, Ron was already out of the room, humming jovially.

Harry mentally groaned, trying to see a way out of this mess that wouldn't involve attempting to keep a secret from Hermione.

**.oOo.**

"Harry, do you know much about the Ministry?" Mister Weasley was saying as He and Harry walked out of the door of the Burrow and turned to start on their hike to the Apparation point nearest.

"I know that it monitors Underage magic." Harry said, it was true that the best lies contained a kernel of the truth. "But, other than that, I can't say I'm an expert on the Ministry."

"Well, Harry," Mister Weasley said, adopting his lecture tone of voice, the one created for ultimate efficiency. "It does more than search for Underage Magic –_mainly because that's impossible._" The last bit was added in an undertone as they hopped over a bit of fencing that had been blown into their path.

"In fact, the Ministry of Magic is much like the Muggles' government, only instead of Ministries it has Departments. Of course, I am oversimplifying it, since it is truer that the Muggles have a more complicated version of what we have, but it gets the point across.

"There are five basic departments within the Ministry. The Department of Mysteries, the Department of Magical Games and Sports, the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, the Department of Magical Transportation and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Almost everything the Ministry does is connected to one of those five departments, the example you brought up, the Improper Use of Magic Office is part of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Where I work is also part of it.

"Now, the Minister of Magic is not chosen through a General Election, instead the Five Department Heads chose every ten years who they think is the best man for the job, from within the Government… and the Minister must be a member of at least a semi-Noble bloodline

"Well, we've reached our stop…ready?" Mister Weasley finally asked as they neared a small clearing in the trees that were near the very edge of the property.

"As I'll ever be." Harry responded, curious what Apparation felt like.

"If you're ready then." Mister Weasley said, already grabbing Harry's shoulder.

Harry then learned what Apparation felt like. It lasted for less than a second and yet every detail of it was etched in his memory as it happened. He could best liken it to being pulled through an opening much too small for his body to go through, and yet goes through nevertheless. It also didn't help that his mind conjured up sick bending and crunching noises as he travelled through the void.

"Well…" Harry said once they appeared in the atrium of the Ministry. "That was unexpected… Isn't there a visitor's entrance or something you could've used instead of apparating directly into the atrium?" _Besides, what about Floo?_ Harry thought to himself, as much as he hated floo, it seemed preferable to Apparation.

"You get used to the sensation after a while." Mister Weasley said. "Besides, this can get you to more places." He paused for a moment before gesturing to Harry. "Well, look around, Harry." He said. "This is the best-looking place inside the entire Ministry, the Atrium." Mister Weasley sighed. "A gigantic waste of Magic if I ever saw one."

Indeed, it was grander than Harry remembered it being when he'd visited the Atrium earlier –or would he be visiting it later? His tenses were getting all mixed up; something that he'd never thought would happen to him!

The marble pillars were all polished until they practically gleamed and a reflection was easily visible to any whom decided to look. The wrought gold was all polished until they resembled nothing so much as miniature starbursts when one squinted their eyes just so. The Fountain of Magical Brethren was still standing, and the gold seemed to have been polished by somebody obsessive about his or her task, as it looked like gold as a six year old would draw it, not at all like the gold Harry knew, with it being shiny enough that it turned into a yellow.

"Barney." Mister Weasley nodded at the guard who was manning the desk leading into the Ministry proper. "This is-"

"Mother of God." Barney whispered in shock, interrupting Mister Weasley. "It's Harry Potter." He managed to keep his voice down and drew no glances from the assorted people currently inside the Atrium.

"You don't need to see me, Arthur." Barney said. "And nor does Mister Potter. I've got special dispensation from the Minister to allow him through without checking his wand." Only the slight narrowing of Mister Weasley's eyes told Harry how irregular it was.

"Suppose I wanted my wand checked?" Harry asked, his brain already firing into "Don't Trust Politicos" Mode and unlikely to be stopped. "Would you be able to do that for me?"

"Sure thing, Mister Potter." Barney said as he took the proffered wand and started the process.

All told, the process took about five minutes, but his wand was registered and the Ministry would know all the spells used on it whilst within the Ministry building. Harry hoped that this would help avert any designs on Fudge's part, even though Fudge wasn't exactly anti-Potter yet, or _had_ he anti-Potter? It was those damn tenses again.

"Thank you." Harry said to Barney after his wand was handed back to him.

"Thank _you_, Mister Potter." Barney replied. "It's my pleasure."

"Err…. Okay." Harry said, still uncomfortable with his fame in the Wizarding World.

"Harry." Mister Weasley said after an uncomfortable minute. "Follow me." He walked through the door that lead into the Ministry proper and let Harry into the gilded lift that had serviced them on Harry's last visit… not that Mister Weasley would remember it, of course.

After stopping on the level servicing the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Arthur guided Harry out of the lift. "Follow me," he said and he walked into the mass of people that was the Department.

After ducking and weaving through the throng of people enough to last Harry several lifetimes, they eventually stopped in front of an office door with a simple "DIRECTOR BONES" embossed on it and Arthur rapped on the door.

"Come in." Came the gruff response and Arthur hesitantly opened the door. "Director Bones," he said. "Harry Potter is here for his hearing on the misuse of underaged magic."

"Send him in." The voice that Harry recognised as Amelia Bones said and he tentatively stepped inside the office.

The office was sparsely decorated, the ultimate flaunt of luxury in the cramped conditions of the Ministry of Magic. On the Director's desk was a picture of Susan Bones as well as several stacks of paperwork. The walls were sparser yet, only a magical window that showed a relatively sunny day with little wind.

"So, you're Harry Potter." It was a statement.

"Yes, ma'am." Harry replied in a small voice. Dammit, he'd faced the entire Wizengamot, why was this so different!

"Underaged Magic." Amelia looked as if she were searching her memory of that night. "You have one other notice on record for Underaged Magic as well, do you have anything to say in your defence?"

"Nothing really, except that I needed to wake up a friend and normal methods weren't working." It was as much of the truth as Harry would tell, and it was enough –he felt- to help lessen the severity of the problem.

"And, how about the earlier incident?" Harry could see that Madame Bones was already thinking of the paperwork required to shred a wand.

"A House Elf did it." Harry replied sullenly, realising just how dumb it would sound.

"A House Elf?" Harry winced at the tone of Madame Bones's voice.

"A House Elf." Harry confirmed. "If you want I _think_ I might be able to summon him here." At Madame Bones's nod, Harry closed his eyes and tried to open himself to magic even more than he was normally. "Dobby?" He finally asked once he felt he was as open to magic as he would ever be.

"Harry Potter calls for Dobby?" Dobby asked as he popped into the Director of the DMLE's office.

_Damn, that actually worked!_ Harry thought to himself. "Actually, Dobby, I was wondering if you could explain to Madame Bones here what you did in my relatives house two summers ago… you see, I got a warning for that Hovering Charm and I'd rather not get my wand shredded for two incidents of Underaged Magic." His voice was level, but he was pretty sure that he'd made the House Elf understand how dire the situation was.

"Dobby is sorry, Harry Potter." Dobby said before turning to Madame Bones. "Dobby would like to file an official claim of magic acts that have been wrongly attributed to Mister Harry Potter." The Elf's tiny voice seemed to grow as he went on, becoming more and more confident with every word.

"Of… of course." Madame Bones said, slightly flustered by being addressed so by a House Elf. "I'll have to get your Master to sign off on it first." She said, stalling for time to allow for her mind to catch up with the rest of her.

At this Dobby's ears drooped and he looked apologetically up at Harry. "Dobby is afraid that Dobby won't be able to help Harry Potter." He was about to snap his fingers and disappear before Madame Bones spoke.

"Wait, Elf." She said in her most commanding voice, reminding Harry why she was the Director of the DMLE. "Why are you unable to help Harry Potter now, and yet were so eager to help him earlier?" Her voice was bereft of any compassion as she sized up the House Elf. "Are you shirking your duty as a House Elf?"

"Dobby…" Dobby's voice trailed off as he looked at the floor in shame. "Dobby has no… has no Master." He finally said, his shame readily visible to all.

Madame Bones seemed taken aback for a minute or two before she collected herself. "Then, Elf," she finally said. "I think we can do without your Master's signature so long as you swear that all you tell me is truthful."

Dobby looked down at his feet again before looking up and looking directly in Madame Bones's eyes. "Dobby so swears." He said before launching into a narrative about how he had tried to 'save' Harry Potter, the "greatest most best wizard ever."

Once his narrative was complete, Madame Bones was squinting so hard that Harry was sure that she'd rupture her monocle's glass lens. "I see," was all that she said before she hastily scribbled down a note on a piece of paper and folded it into a paper aeroplane before giving it a good toss. Not five minutes after she had done that, Mafalda Hopkirk appeared in the office's door.

"Mafalda," Madame Bones said. "It appears that your Office is in error regarding Mister Potter's alleged Magic Use two years ago."

Hopkirk didn't give any appearance that she remembered the incident and, in all likelihood, she didn't, until: "hovering charm? Room full of Muggles?" She asked.

"Yes." Madame Bones replied, evidently not at all surprised at Hopkirk's perfect recall.

"How was my office in error, Director?" Hopkirk said in a perfectly respectful tone. "I recall sending him a letter regarding the improper use of underaged magic as he was the only Wizard our records showed and if we had made an error he could've always sent us a letter about it at that point. Since he didn't we've been forced to assume that he did do it."

"Well, as it turns out." Madame Bones said. "The Hovering Charm was cast by a House Elf." That was as far as she got before Hopkirk cut her off.

"Impossible! Our instruments can differentiate between Wizard and House Elf Magic!" Hopkirk's face that went a startling shade of red that would've given almost any Weasley in the world a run for their money.. "Begging your pardon, Director."

Madame Bones waved away the apology. "Not needed, but are you certain that you just didn't get a _magic_ warning for Number 4 Privet Drive and assumed that it was Wizard Magic?"

Hopkirk frowned slightly and her brow furrowed. "I wasn't in the office when it was detected and I only read about it the next day." Her evidently perfect memory was, apparently, failing her. "Let's see… we had an Auror in the room… James Reynolds I believe. And it was he who reported that there was illegal magic performed at Number 4 Privet drive…and activated the letter-spell." Hopkirk's voice trailed off. "Wasn't he arrested a few weeks ago on account of corruption?"

"Worse." Madame Bones replied. "He was actually a Death Eater that had somehow slipped through our nets, Frank Delen was his name. Thankfully he's been dead for the past two weeks and the mess he's created is currently being patched up… I'm guessing that this is going to fall under that heading."

"Ah." Hopkirk said. "I'm assuming that Mister Potter then didn't receive the appeal section of his letter than." It wasn't a question. "In that case, Mister Potter," she said turning to face Harry for the first time in the conversation. "I am removing the citation for underage magic from your record." With a short bow to Madame Bones –more a nod of the head than anything- she left the room.

"Well, Mister Potter." Madame Bones said after a minute of silence. "It appears that this piece of magic isn't going to be the straw that breaks the camel's back." She smiled a little at Harry's crooked eyebrow. "Under the circumstances of that night, however, I am going to be removing this piece of magic from your record and it shouldn't be brought up again in any legal capacity." With a rather genial smile she dismissed him with a wave of her hand. "Oh, and Mister Potter."

"Yes, Madame Bones?" He said, turning from his position halfway between the door and her desk.

"Tell anybody about this at your own peril." Harry noticed that Madame Bones had a slight smile on her face and he decided that she was having him on before exiting the office.

"Well, what'd she say?" Mister Weasley asked after Harry came out the door.

"I can't say." Harry said, letting his voice trail off. "I was warned by Madame Bones to talk about what went on in there at my own peril… however," Harry continued. "I _am_ cleared of my earlier infraction so, even if this isn't cleared than I'm still clean." Harry decided to allow the little lie… probably more of a grey lie than a white one.

Mister Weasley nodded. "Fair enough." He said, then he turned to his left and started leading Harry to his office. "Now, the conditions are rather cramped." He cautioned Harry before opening the door and revealing the office was rather like Harry remembered it being from last summer… or would that be a future summer?

"I can't say I really mind." Harry said, realising that his experiences at the Dursleys' must've imprinted more upon him than he'd previously –or would that be would have?- realised. At least, that was what he was hoping.

Mister Weasley must've heard something in his voice that betrayed Harry's thoughts as he looked up sharply at him, but allowed his gaze to slide back down to his desk. "Perkins hasn't shown up yet." Mister Weasley said, albeit somewhat unnecessarily. "So you can take his desk until we get a call or the day ends… whichever comes first."

Harry just shrugged and took the proffered seat before allowing his eyes to wander over the assorted items that Mister Weasley had stored haphazardly on racks. He didn't see much that stood out except for two items, two _very _dangerous items. Very dangerous as in "send-somebody-to-Hell" dangerous.

"Ah." Mister Weasley said noticing Harry's attention drawn to the two items. "I see you've noticed our two latest finds of Wizards using Muggle Items. Highly illegal modifications were made to both of these weapons, the first one you're looking at is a modified ass-lift right-all." Harry had to suppress a snort at Mister Weasley's mispronunciation of assault rifle. "The other one is a heavily enchanted long-knife, picked it off an Italian nut-job about a month ago, in fact both are set up to be destroyed by the Ministry today as it so happens.

Harry's mind was in overdrive, while he wasn't a hundred per-cent certain, he was relatively sure that the rifle that he'd noticed was an AK-47 or a variant on the design –_look's like watching some of Dudley's games last year (or next year?) did/will pay off!_

Deciding to swipe the two weapons at a later time –preferably before they were destroyed- Harry turned back to face Mister Weasley, trying to think of a way to pass the time. It appeared to be a bad-luck day for him as Mister Weasley was doing some paperwork while he was waiting for Perkins, a call or the end of the day. Resolving to steal both items then, and damn the consequences Harry stood up and walked over to the AK-47.

Immediately, Mister Weasley stood up, his wand extended. "Harry, I must ask that you step away from that ass-lift right-all." He said, ignoring Harry's snickers. "It is a _very _dangerous weapon and I don't want to explain to everybody why you're dead."

Harry put on a face as close to injured innocence as he could manage. "I just want to hold it." He said in his best "I wasn't doing anything wrong" voice. "I wasn't going to point it at myself and press the trigger, I'm not a total idiot."_ Not that your son would agree with that last statement._

Mister Weasley's face softened. "Okay." He said, lowering his wand. "But don't tell my boss."

Thanking every God and Goddess, real and imagined that Mister Weasley had bought it, Harry looked down on the AK-47 in his hands and was surprised by its lightness. He committed every line and curve of its design to memory. Then he set it back down on the rack, deciding to wait until Mister Weasley had turned his back to make his move.

Thankfully a paper aeroplane swooped into Mister Wesley's desk and chirped several times to get his attention. And, again just as fortuitously, Mister Weasley turned to his desk for the half-minute required to read the piece of paperwork that had just cropped up. It was half-minute enough for Harry to transfigure a piece of cheese he'd found in his pockets into a passable duplicate of the AK-47, switch the tag, and then place a shrinking charm on the real AK-47. In all, he'd just dropped the miniature AK-47 in his pocket when Mister Weasley had turned around. "Well, we're off." He said at once. "Looks like there's some type of demonic tea-kettle in Hastings."

Harry nodded. "I'm ready."

Mister Weasley escorted Harry out the Auror Department and then into the lift, which they rode back up to the atrium. "Checking out my wand." Harry said quickly to Barney the Guard, who merely nodded and shredded up the piece of paper that had Harry's registration on it with a spell. Then, they were at the apparition point.

Already Harry was pretty sure that he'd never want do go through the uncomfortable feeling of being pushed through a hole too small for his body to fit through again. But, this time he actually got a feel for the magic as they appeared in an alleyway beside an antiques store –which Harry supposed was their destination. To Mister Weasley's good credit there wasn't anybody looking down the alley nor was there anybody in the alley at the time of their arrival.

Cautiously following Mister Weasley out of the alley and around to the front door of the store Harry paused briefly before walking through the open door.

"Kingsley." He nodded to the big black Auror who was currently standing in the store apparently keeping the 'demonic tea-kettle' at bay.

"Arthur." Harry noted that the two seemed familiar with each other, which made sense, but it still seemed odd to him that Mister Weasely would know people from the 'New Order' prior to joining. "I debated on calling you or not, but this appears to be an enchanted tea-kettle that has some intelligence to it."

Arthur frowned. "Has your team noticed anything else amiss in here?" It was than that Harry noticed several aurors were combing through the store while somebody Harry assumed to be the shop-keep was cowering in the corner; Harry even thought he noticed a tantalisingly familiar head of pink hair.

"Not really, though we do have a trainee with us for some on-the-job training as it is and she's noticed a few things so far. This store has at least seventeen different Dark Artefacts stowed away in it." At his words the Shop-keep gave an involuntary twitch and a pitiful whine. Kingsley grimaced at the man's whimper but continued. "Now, the problem's just going to be finding the damn things."

Mister Weasley nodded before drawing his wand and chanting out a string of Latin that Harry didn't recognise, but the teakettle stopped and fell over. From the looks of it, Kingsley didn't recognise the Latin either. "Well, it's out for now. I don't know how long that shield should last, but it will work for the interim." He shrugged a little before turning to Harry. "Let's get you back, Molly will be having kittens soon." He then turned his head back to Kingsley as they walked out of the shop. "Drop it off in my office when you get back, I should be there."

With that they walked back to the Alley and disappeared.

**.oOo.**

"Have you seen anything, _Weig_ Redclaw?" Longtooth asked finally, breaking the silence that had fallen upon the two Goblins over the past few hours as they sat pouring over several books.

The former teller looked up at his new Leige-lord. "No, my liege." He said submissively. "I cannot say that I have found anything to further _Nefrag_ for the time being." The Goblin showed what could only be called embarrassment. "My skills, it appears, are not up for the task ahead."

Longtooth appeared pensive for a moment before grinning a predator's grin. "Go and collect the special files on Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore." He said, making sure to use the mage's full name. "Our plan of attack was in error." For a Goblin it was a dangerous declaration –one's decision was one's honour in Goblin society and a wrong decision could cost a Goblin his honour and his life.

"At once, my liege." Redclaw bowed as he hastily stood up and ducked out of the room, leaving Longtooth alone with parchment and quill. He quickly abandoned the plan and moved on to something… special.

He reached for a new sheet of parchment, and then gripped the quill tightly, he wasn't good with human runes and he needed this letter to look as good as he could manage.

_Dear Mister Potter_ the letter started. Sometimes it was good to be a high-ranking Goblin in Gringotts…

**A/N:**_ Well that's a chapter! Not much here but filler, but I , hopefully, post Chapter 13 by Summer…Sorry for the delay, but I will rehash what I've probably said several times: this story will not be abandoned… it may be forgotten several times, but it will not be abandoned. Finally, a nod to both Jbern and S'Tar'Kan in this chapter… arguably even one to Ruskbyte if you look deep enough…_

_Here's to hoping that Chapter 13 comes quicker…_


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

Albus Dumbledore sat at his desk engaging in a task that he had neglected for so long a time that he doubted that even Malfalda Hopkirk could remember when he'd last done this. In short, Albus Dumbledore was rearranging his memories with the use of a Pensive and a judicious application of Occlumency.

He'd realised something when Fawkes had left him, he'd realized that he'd been relying on the 'natural' occlumency that comes with being bonded to a Phoenix too much for his own comfort. He relied on it so much that, when he'd tried to rebuild his barriers, he'd found that he could hardly remember the process! After reading through several tomes, he'd rediscovered the process and found that it was much like riding a broomstick, even if you forget, your body never truly forgets the process and he'd been able to rebuild his barriers within a week of 'rediscovering' the process.

But having effective barriers was only part of having a well occluded mind, the other part of it was having an ordered mind… and having your mind ordered in such a way that only you would be able to understand what thought or memory linked to what. While human's naturally did that on their own, everybody did it in the same way, which made it easier to figure out a person's mind over time, whereas reordering your mind would make it more confusing for others to understand. At least, that was what Albus Dumbledore had been taught many moons ago.

A screech for his office's window snapped him out of his meditative state and he looked out at the world over his half-moon spectacles. "Hmmm." He muttered as he purveyed a Gringott's official owl. "A reply?" He said softly in a voice so low that he doubted that his transfiguration teacher's cat form would be able to hear it.

He opened the window and let the owl in and then tried to take the letter that the Owl was clutching in its talons, only to have the owl viciously lash out and try to bite off one of his fingers.

Muttering a few choice curses under his breath, Dumbledore levelled his wand on the owl before uttering two deadly words. "_avada kedava_." A jet of green light snaked from his wand and hit the owl square on, killing it.

Now unhindered, Dumbledore took the letter and looked down at the envelope. _Mister Potter?_ He thought to himself, before realising that the mail-wards he'd placed on the boy at a young age were still, indeed, active.

Chuckling merrily to himself, the ageing mage cut open the envelope and pulled out the letter enclosed.

_Dear Mister Potter,_

_My name is Longtooth, I am your Account Manager and on the 6__th__ of August of this year, your Magical Guardian –a Mister Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore- sent a letter to me requesting that your vault be opened to Messrs Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy as well as Narcissa Malfoy. Knowing your animosity towards the three in question I surmised that your Magical Guarding was not acting in your best interests as he should._

_Knowing this I launched Project _Nefrag_, Mister Potter you should know that _Nefrag_ translates –roughly- into English as _Treason_ and as such I would appreciate appropriate compensation._

_However, I have found that your Magical Guardian is not acting in your best interests and, as is my station as your Account Manager, I sent this letter to you in order to get direction as to what I should do next. If I do not hear back from you in 6 days with an answer or my Rune indicators are tripped, I will assume that this letter was intercepted and I will deal with this matter in a more… direct manner._

_Respectfully,_

_Senior Account Manager Longtooth_

Gringotts

Dumbledore let his lips curl up in a smile. It appeared that the Goblins needed to be taught a lesson, a lesson that he would be more than happy to oblige to teach them.

He smiled a dark smile that seemed out of place on the old wizard's face. It was a malicious smile that promised pain, suffering and, finally, a release in death to anybody who dared to defy him. It was a smile that if anybody had seen on Albus Dumbledore's face he wouldn't be able to explain away.

He walked over to one of his many cabinets and pulled out a vial of polyjuice potion and popped it into one of his many pockets before finding his way over ot his fireplace. After a quick mental argument in his mind about his course of action, Dumbledore found an urn filled with floo powder and took a handful.

Throwing some floo powder into the fire that he never extinguished, Dumbledore dived into the fire shouting "Gringotts: Account Manager, Potter" as he flew through the flames.

_Longtooth would pay!_

**.oOo.**

Longtooth saw back against his Nundu-skin chair, relishing the feeling of the powerful predator's skin against his back as he sighed. He quickly sat up, his back ramrod straight, as his fire roared to life and deposited a sooty Albus Dumbledore, who quickly cast a charm of some type before turning to regard him.

"Longtooth." Dumbledore said gravely. "It appears that you are not as good at this game as you felt you were."

_The arrogant wizard!_ If Longtooth had felt any apprehension about his plan before now it was all gone, replaced by a cold hatred that fuelled his actions. "Really, Dumbledore? You're here now."

"Only because your letter to Mister Potter was diverted." Dumbledore said in a matter of fact tone that made Longtooth re-evaluate Dumbledore's intelligence.

"What makes you think I didn't know about those Owl Wards?" Longtooth said in an attempt to buy some time, _Redclaw should be here any moment!_ He thought in the safety of his Goblin-mind.

"Oh, and don't bother stalling in order to reinforcements to arrive." Dumbledore said in a condescending voice. "I sealed the doors when I arrived."

It was time for Longtooth's grin he'd sprouted when Dumbledore arrived to grow wider, and his teeth started showing. "What makes you think that you're going to leave this place in one piece?" He asked Dumbledore, fingering the scimitar at his side.

"Enough talking, _Reducto_!" Dumbledore had his wand pointed at Longtooth and the spell erupted out of the tip –his wand was practically glowing with the amount of magic coursing through it- and streaked towards Longtooth.

Only to splash against some sort of magical shield and become useless.

"You see, Dumbledore." Longtooth said. "Your magic is useless, in here it is _I_ who have the advantage, not you." With that said, he flew out of his chair and had his scimitar drawn back and attempted to hew Dumbledore's neck, only to be batted away by a Banishing charm.

Screaming a curse in Gobely-gook, Longtooth tried again, this time dodging a curse that came dangerously close and coming within centimetres of removing Dumbledore's head from his body, only to have cut Dumbledore's arm instead.

"Damn Goblin." Dumbledore spat as he re-aimed his wand. "_Avada Kedavra_." The jet of green light flew true, lost some of its brightness in the Goblin shield –however it still went through- and hit the Goblin in the chest.

Dumbledore walked grabbed some of the Goblin's hairs before jumping into the fireplace and disappearing, his job complete.

Several seconds later several security Goblins wielding maces burst into the Account Manager's office and one detached himself from the group to kneel down by the fallen Goblin.

"Longtooth?" He asked softly.

"Yes, my friend?" Longtooth replied, taking a heaving gasp of breath. "I'm afraid I don't have much…" His voice died, as if by the force of a bad cliché, and his eyes clouded over from the delayed affect of the Killing Curse.

"I am sorry my friend." The other Goblin said in the same soft voice he'd used earlier before standing up and speaking in a louder voice. "Start sweeping the area for heavy magic use." He commanded before walking out the door, Management would like to know about this.

**.oOo.**

An owl interrupted Harry and Arthur's path towards the Burrow's main door, Harry managed to grab the letter that the owl dropped before departing. "Read that one inside, privately." Arthur told Harry before letting himself in.

"Alright." Harry acceded before following Mister Weasley into the Burrow.

"How did it go, mate?" Ron said as he approached Harry; out of the corner of his eye Harry could see Hermione carefully marking the page in her book –even memorising the page number to prevent a Gred and Forge prank- before following suit.

"I got my earlier warning expunged from my record." Harry said, unconsciously drawing on Hermione's vocabulary. "So it doesn't matter, unless I get another citation."

"What?" A confused Ron asked, trying to figure out what "ex-puhn-gied" meant.

"My record shows that I didn't do any magic two summers ago." Harry patiently explained. "So that this one really doesn't matter." He was partially exasperated that Ron wasn't able to use something called logic to figure out the gist of what he'd just said, and the other half of his frustration was that he'd been having a very long day. Then, Hermione wasn't exactly that inviting right now… in fact, she looked downright pissed.

_.:You got that right!:._ She projected to him while saying, in a distinctly cooler voice. "Nice to see you made it off."

'_What'd I do?'_ Harry thought behind the privacy of his 'screens'. It was an odd feeling, physically deciding where in your head you would think… and the oddest part about it was that it soon had become second nature to him and, if he wasn't mistaken, Hermione too. Out loud he simply said, "thank you," in response to both to their congratulations though his voice was carefully neutral.

"If you'll excuse me?" He said after a few uncomfortable minutes of just standing there in the sitting room.

"Of course." Ron said as he turned to sit down on the floor and start a game of Chess with himself while Hermione went back to her reading.

Harry ran up the stairs to the top before closing Ron's bedroom door behind him and locking it with his 'other' wand. Several privacy charms he'd picked up out of _The Standard Book of Spells, Year 5_ followed and he opened the letter with shaking hands.

_Dear Mister Potter,_

_I know that you have never met me, nor have you ever heard of me, but I am the Account Manager of your family's fortunes. My name, translated to English, is Longtooth and I have been investigating several items in the defense of your fortunes the past few hours as I write this._

_I have enchanted this owl with Ward Penetrators because it is doubtful that you don't have Owl Wards of some type and this is 'For Your Eyes Only'._

_Late last night my associate and I received a letter from your Magical Guardian, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. This letter contained instructions to open up the Potter Ancestral vaults to Messrs Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy as well as a Misses Narcissa Malfoy, along with notes addressed to each with notification of their new status._

_Now, Mister Potter, while I am not active in your world, I have managed to keep up to date with events surrounding you for the most part. From what little I have managed to glean over the years, I have found that you have a rather antagonistic relationship with Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy and that Narcissa Malfoy would drain your vaults if only because she could._

_In response to this letter, my associate and I launched Project _Nefrag_ which, when translated, means Treason in your language. Yes, Mister Potter, Treason. I have sent a letter to your Magical Guardian that has the same basics as this one but I have altered the information inside enough to provide a different outlook on the events._

_If I am dead, than it is likely that A.P.W.B. Dumbledore killed me, most likely before you even read this letter._

_I say this not to implore you to avenge my death, because I am just dying in the line of duty, Mister Potter. I tell you this to make you realise how dangerous A.P.W.B. Dumbledore is to you and to those you hold dear._

_My associate will be able to be found at the Leaky Cauldron at 12 o'clock noon each day for the next week and a half. He has some information out of the Special Files that I believe you will find useful to use along with an offer that I doubt you will be able to refuse._

_Mister Potter, I cannot express how much being your family's account manager has given light to my life. It was a breath of fresh air to deal with a family that didn't assume that Goblins were lowly creatures, but also to deal with a family that didn't think of Goblins as humans. Goblins are Goblins, Mister Potter, that is the most important lesson I can impart to you for the success of your future dealings at Gringotts._

_Go to the Leaky Cauldron and seek out Redfang,_

Nihraka Eahk'Mven

Harry couldn't believe what he had just read, and, thankfully, he had read it in the partitioned area of his mind that let him keep thoughts private. After rereading the letter, he set it down and decided to seek out Misses Weasley.

After dispelling his 'wards' Harry found her in the kitchen, preparing Lunch.

"Misses Weasley?" He asked.

"Yes, Harry?"

"I was wondering if I could come with you to Diagon Alley? There's some books I want to pick up at Flourish and Blotts…" he let his voice trail off as if he was unsure.

Her expression softened as she moved from her position of perched over the stove to facing him. "Of course you can." She said, moving to hug him.

Before she could, however, the smell of smoke rose from one of the many pots she had playing musical burners which forced her to move to try and salvage the meal.

His mission accomplished, Harry went back into the frostiness of the front room.

**.oOo.**

Sadly for Harry, Hermione didn't appear to want to tell him what her issue was and gave him the proverbial cold shoulder throughout the evening and even until the morning, when Harry left with Misses Weasley for Diagon Alley. Upon their arrival at the Leaky Cauldron Harry begged off of Misses Weasley, claiming a sore stomach from the ride, but, in reality, he had seen a Goblin among the various patrons and decided to investigate.

"Your name wouldn't happen to be Redclaw?" He said by way of greeting as he walked up to the lone Goblin, which simply nodded in answer. Realising what his 'guest' wanted, Harry asked Tom for a private room, who simply nodded and –after an exchange of galleons- gave him the room key.

Harry led the Goblin up the room and, after determining that it was pre-warded and that the wards were good ones, Harry turned to face the Goblin. "Alright, I'm here to-" He pulled out Longtooth's letter before continuing. "Collect or otherwise receive some of the information out of the Special Files that you have for me."

The Goblin looked up at Harry for a moment before he moved his hand in cut motion, causing several rings of Runes –presumably Goblin in origin- to appear. The Goblin than manipulated several of the Runes until he had formed a sphere out of three rings, then, with a final motion of his hand, a stack of parchment appeared in the middle of the sphere.

"These documents, my liege, are copies of the real documents from the Special Files of Gringotts." The Goblin took a fortifying breath. "In truth, my liege, I did not expect you to make it here within a day, but in any case, these documents are all on various items of interest that you should read through… Not here!" The Goblin practically screeched as Harry made to grab the documents.

"No, my job is to teach you how the make the Rune ring appear and, from there, manipulate it until you have the sphere and then the final trigger." From there the Goblin gave Harry a crash course on the use of Runes that surpassed anything he'd learned in his quick course of 3rd Year Ancient Runes.

After a few hours Harry was able to call the Rune-ring into existence, though he still would mangle it sometimes, and then, from there, he was able to manipulate it enough to satisfy his teacher.

"My liege, I must commend you on your performance, not many humans are able to do that within an eighth of a day." Redclaw said as he made to depart.

"Wait, Redclaw." Harry called, stopping the Goblin in his tracks. "Why do you always call me 'my liege'?" It had been something that had been bugging him since the Goblin started teaching him, but this was the first real opportunity that he'd had to ask the question.

"I assume you know about _Nefrag_?" At Harry's nod the Goblin continued. "To help protect me if something went wrong, Longtooth made himself my liege lord as you are his as the last remaining scion of the Potter Family. So, I am your liegeman to command until such time as you release me from my oaths." The Goblin chuckled wryly as Harry made to do just that.

"No, Mister Potter, I will come to you if I feel that it is the time, however, in the interim, you will find that Gringott's will be more co-operative than usual for you and anybody you choose to bring along."

Harry bowed to the Goblin. "In Longtooth's memory, than?"

"Indeed." The Goblin replied, bowing back before exiting the room and leaving Harry alone.

After calling the Rune Ring into existence once more, Harry left the room and tossed the key back to Tom, who tossed Harry two galleons as well. With a nod to the helpful barkeep, Harry left the bar for Flourish and Blott's.

"Can I help you find anything?" An older man asked Harry as he walked through the main door of Flourish and Blott's.

"I was wondering if you had any books on Goblin Runes and other Runes?" Harry asked. "Not the basic text-book ones, the real stuff."

The man looked slightly affronted at Harry's implication. "Sir, I will give you only the best books on Rune casting, nothing less."

"Good." Harry said. "Then let's get to."

Thirty minutes later saw Harry, laden down with a multitude of different books on Rune casting, sitting in the Leaky Cauldron waiting for Misses Weasley whilst reading up on Goblin Runes. He'd just finished up reading the first chapter, which he'd read in the 'median' area between his and Hermione's minds as a sort of peace offering to the knowledge hungry girl. But he couldn't feel her nibbling at all.

"Ready to go Harry?" Out of nowhere Misses Weasley appeared in front of him, looking appreciatively at his stack of books.

"Yeah," Harry said distractedly, bookmarking his page. "Do you need any help?"

"No, I'm fine." Misses Weasley begged off and directed Harry towards the floo which, after dropping a sickle in a coin jar, she threw a handful of floo powder on the fire and pushed Harry through while saying 'The Burrow' and then she followed suit.

**.oOo.**

It had been a busy day at the office, at least that's what it had been for Cross and everybody within his section. "Are you sure that that's all of them?" Cross asked, rubbing his neck, trying to work out some of the lasting soreness from two days ago. "Cause, if this is right, then we've got a good idea of who's a muggleborn," he actually pronounced it properly, "and then from there we can determine who's in this World."

"Yes, that's all that I can remember. If you want more lists you'll have to see Mafalda Hopkirk." Johnson said crossly. "If you don't mind, I'll just kip out on your couch again, I just can't do these forty-eight hour days as often as I could."

"I know what you mean." Cross replied. "It seems like ages since I was twenty and ruled the world." He sighed. "Goddamn, I wish I could go back to that instead of _this_." He swept a hand over his desk, indicated the piles of paperwork he had. "In any case, do you think you could put us in contact with Miss Hopkirk? It would be nice to have some lists." He paused for a moment before firing up his computer again and waited for the MS-DOS prompt to appear.

**C:\**

He typed furiously.

**CD C:\SIS\MI5\INFO\LISTS\CITIZENS**

DIR /P He typed in and then a list started being displayed, waiting for the enter to go to the next page, until Cross found the file he wanted.

**C:\SIS\MI5\INFO\LISTS\CITIZENS\**

The program started up and then a prompt appeared.

**Username and Password is required to complete this action.**

After typing in his username and password another prompt appeared.

**What is the first database do you wish to crosscheck?**

Cross paused before typing in the first file.

**C:\SIS\MI5\INFO\LISTS\CITIZENS\**

Cross then pressed the enter key and was prompted for the second database file.

**C:\SIS\MI5\INFO\LISTS\CITIZENS\ **

The screen flickered on and off before continuing.

**FILES CROSSCHECKING** was displayed along with **ETA: 12:25:34**

Twelve and a half bloody hours! After turning off his monitor Cross leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes for a moment to fight the headache he felt coming on; he'd never been 'good' with computers.

"So, Johnson, what did you do before you became a… Special Investigator under the Director?" He eventually asked, breaking the steady noise of the computer's fans.

"Well, believe it or not, I was actually a reporter."

**.oOo.**

Harry walked out of the Burrow following the supper he'd just finished off and decided to find the tree that he'd used extensively in his 'past' life. He found it without difficulty and sat down in the crook between two branches, wriggling a little bit in order to make himself more comfortable.

He'd been alone before, but he'd never felt this _lonely_. He'd always had friends to go to, whether it was a dog that always appeared at the park at a certain time, a handy tree stump that he'd given a name, or Ron and Hermione. But, now, he felt so damn lonely, separated from somebody who he literally shared a mind with and had been rapidly becoming something closer than a friend, and he knew the 'truth' about Ron. It seemed like he just couldn't catch a break.

"I thought I'd find you out here." Harry looked down at the ground and was disappointed to find Ginny standing below him, looking up at him.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, you seem to always spend time out here now. Mum's going practically spare about it; thinks you need to do your homework or something." Ginny shrugged. "Speaking of which, are you done with your homework?"

"Yes." Harry replied, already looking at the view afforded him, it was truly a sight that he imagined muggles would pay a killing for.

"Feeling rather monosyllabic today, are you?"

"Yea." Harry replied absently.

"If you don't want to talk, just say something." Ginny said, before apparently thinking of something. "You feeling okay?"

"Yes." Harry answered, wondering what the point of this conversation was.

"Just checking." Ginny said. "After all, I know I would be rather angry with Hermione if I were you."

"Oh?"

"She's giving you the cold shoulder, that's not exactly a good omen. What? I'm not blind, I can see!" She protested at Harry's look. "You two are good for each other, I hope you work out… not that I wouldn't be happy to put you back together if you don't." She added with a wicked grin.

"Thanks, Ginny." Harry said, rather flabbergasted, wondering where in Dante's Nine Circles this facet of her personality had came from.

"You're welcome."

**A/N:**_ Kind of an abrupt ending, I know. However, it appears to me that this is the best way to end the chapter. Sorry about the lack of updates lately, I can't say I've been writing a lot, but now I should be able to update more often than I have been._

_Sorry to those who wanted some H/Hr fluff, but I'm kind of sadistic when it comes to 'my' characters. They'll probably talk next chapter and then this will truly become an H/Hr fic. As for requests to H/Hr/L, well, I can't say I'm a big fan of a threesome and I don't really see it working out. But, well, I will try to give Luna a bigger role in this story that J.K. gave her!_


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

"Harry?" It was Hermione.

"Yes, Hermione." Harry responded his voice as cool as hers had been yesterday, what did she want with him now?

"How are you?" She seemed to be going the cautious route, showed she knew how to use the brains that she had in her head.

Harry stretched out a bit in the tree before replying with an answer he hadn't used since Fifth year, "I'm fine." And, for once in his life, he actually meant it; he didn't feel good, but he didn't feel bad, just lonely.

"That's good." Hermione replied quietly as she watched Harry swing down from the tree and land on the ground, quickly rising from his position of all fours. Searching for a neutral topic, she eventually asked the first thing on her mind. "What was the book you were," she broke off mid-sentence as she saw the book in his hands, "correction: _are_, reading?"

Harry looked down at his feet, feigning shame as his mind raced, trying to figure out if he should tell her or not, eventually reaching his decision, he said, "_Goblin Runes for Dummies_, evidently a muggleborn decided that it was a book that the Wizarding World was sorely missing." He smiled a little bit. "Not only is it handy, but it's actually fairly easy to read and follow."

"That's nice." Hermione said, not really following Harry. "Wait, did you say _Goblin Runes_?" She asked after doing a double take at the familiar yellow and black cover of the _Dummies_ series.

"Yeah," Harry said, slightly uncomfortable. _What's the issue with Goblin Runes?_ He thought to himself.

"Those are supposed to be the most difficult of all Modern Runes to master." Hermione said, slightly incredulously. "Not only that, but they aren't like traditional Runes, you have to summon a Rune Circle in order to properly use them." She looked crossly at Harry, "you _do_ know what a Rune Circle is, do you?"

Harry sighed, least she was talking to him now, as he moved his hands in the motions that Redclaw had shown him earlier, while holding the images of each Rune in his mind, and he called up what he assumed to be a Rune Circle into existence, the pale, wispy blue runes hovering at his hands.

Hermione looked at him with something approaching hero-worship in her eyes. "You shouldn't be able to do that." She said quietly, as if trying to reassure herself of the fact. "You _shouldn't_ be able to do that."

_.:Why?:._ It was the first time that day that Harry had thought in the middle ground of his and Hermione's minds, and if felt as if he had taken a breath of fresh air when he'd been breathing nothing but smog for hours prior.

That stopped her dead as she looked at Harry before responding. "Harry, do you even know the Goblin Runic alphabet?" She asked slowly.

"I'm assuming that this is it." Harry stated, twirling the Rune Circle with his hands and looking at each Rune. "If it is, then yes, I do."_ Though I couldn't tell you the names of the Runes_, he thought ruefully to himself.

Hermione closed her eyes and opened them again, apparently trying to wrap her mind around what Harry had just done.

_.:I think I just fried your mind:._ Harry mentally vocalised.

Hermione was now opening and closing her mouth as she looked at Harry's Rune Circle with something approaching shock. She was still opening and closing her mouth like a fish while she replied. _.:No, you're just not supposed to be able to do that!:._

Harry suppressed a laugh as he looked at Hermione's face. "When have the rules really applied to me?" He asked, before amending. "The rules of magic and stuff like that, not real rules." He flushed a little before turning away. "So, anyway, why are you out here?"

"I didn't know I needed a reason to talk to my friend." Hermione's voice was rather affronted as she walked around to face Harry.

"You do when you've been acting like a," Harry choked off his last few words as he didn't want to permanently end his friendship with her, even though he was fairly certain it was close to the end.

"Like a…" Hermione's voice trailed off dangerously.

"Never mind." Harry said, turning and starting to walk away.

"Don't you just walk away from me while I'm talking to you Harry James Potter!" Hermione practically screeched.

"Oh yeah?" Harry asked, turning on the figurative pin as he faced her. "Then what am I going to do? Stand there and take all the abuse you'll pile on me and be happy about it?" He was close to yelling but fought to regain his cool. _Clear your mind._ A voice not unlike Snape's said in his head.

"Yes!" Hermione said, stomping her foot. "Or, at the very least, finishing your sentence."

"I'd rather not." Harry said.

"Why not?" Hermione said, her voice as dangerous as she could make it sound.

"Because I don't want to end our friendship, which my words most likely would do." Harry said. "Regardless of how you've treated me lately, I still value our friendship."

His words were the proverbial slap in the face and he stormed away from a flabbergasted Hermione and back to the Burrow.

**.oOo.**

Albus Dumbledore once again sat at his desk and contemplated the vial of super-concentrated polyjuice potion with Longtooth's hairs in it. What would he do with this vial? Would he start a war? Would he give donations to Fudge's campaign? Would he rob somebody for the sheer hell of it? While the first one was more for laughs than anything else –not that he had an audience- he felt that the last two would be viable options… especially if he needed to sink Fudge later down the road, but, for the moment, he made up his mind to let the vial stay on the shelf it started life and age. Not that ageing did the potion any good, but it didn't harm it any, and he didn't need it now.

But the real subject of his contemplation was not the potion that he was moving to the shelf, no, it was Mister Potter. He didn't know what had happened to Mister Potter lately, but he'd gone from pliable schoolboy to jaded young man in an eye blink. Not only that, but he seemed to regard him, Albus Dumbledore –the Greatest Wizard in the past century- as nothing more than a meddling fool. And, while Albus would admit that he had played around with Mister Potter's life slightly, he wouldn't call it _meddling_, after all, meddling implied malicious intent.

No, he'd just been… _helping_ and _training_ the boy.

Yeah, that was it.

**.oOo.**

Cross's semi-restful state was disturbed when his computer decided to go and start beeping at him like some kind of idiot bird. Damn.

**Cross Check Complete. 2500 Matches Found.** His computer screen was showing him. "Give me a moment." Cross groaned as he sat up from his office chair, three nights in a row, this wasn't good for his neck. He cracked his neck several times before reading the second line of the match.

**(C)ontinue; (L)ist; List and (P)rint?**

After checking to make sure that his printer was connected to the computer, Cross hit the "P" key and waited while the Hewlett-Packard warmed up and started printing out the sheets.

Fifteen minutes and almost two hundred computer printed sheets later, Cross had a list of what was as good as all the Muggleborn witches and wizards in Wizarding England. Cross pulled out a heavy-duty stapler and was glad that the purchaser for his office had insisted on getting the 'super-mega-heavy-duty' stapler as he'd mocked it at the time, since he _really_ didn't want to have to staple two hundred sheets of paper the normal way.

Saying another prayer of thanksgiving that the same purchaser had insisted on one of the newer 'laserjet' type printers as opposed to an 'inkjet', Cross started reading the list.

For the most part it was rather boring, it just listed name, last known address, physical characteristics and last year of school on record along with reason for leaving school.

Then the tedious part of the project began, checking each person's reason for leaving and making sure it wasn't that the family moved. The reasons varied, but there was a string of ~UNKNOWN~'s in the mix that allowed Cross a sense of satisfaction. After looking at the clock -_God, was it only 0630?_ Cross went down to the break room to grab some coffee and begin his work in earnest, leaving Johnson to sleep on his couch.

"You look beat." Another fifteen minutes, a cup of coffee and about twenty names later, Hannah, his boss's receptionist, remarked as she sat down heavily in the spot next to him.

Cross managed a tired smile. "I don't remember the last full night's sleep I've had in an actual bed, for the past few days I've been sleeping in my office chair." He stifled a small yawn. "In fact, I can't wait for my leave to come up in a week." He didn't mention that, if he remained true to his normal routine, he'd likely be continuing what he did at work from a different angle.

Hannah patted his arm sympathetically. "Don't burn yourself you, your job has a way of doing that." She then gave him a quick hug before getting up and walking out. "After all, you're close enough to burning out already."

Cross had just managed a wan smile as he worked on his second coffee while reading through the list. When he hit one name, he had almost spat out his coffee he was so surprised to see it on there. _What the hell are the Grangers doing on that list?_ He wondered silently before asking the same question out loud. Steeling a glance to his right and left, Cross got up and walked back to his office, his mind filled with questions.

He looked at the couch in his office to find himself being watched by Johnson cautiously. "I know you're not the fastest in the morning," Cross opened. "But I'm willing to bet that you can tell friend from foe."

Johnson shook his head a little, as if to throw out the cobwebs and looked back at Johnson with some regret in his eyes. "Sorry, I'm a little disoriented right now, after waking up in a muggle place for the past few days." He shrugged, "well, it gets a little odd after a while… much like if you were to do the same, wake up in a magical home for a few days," he explained.

The explanation didn't make much sense to Cross, but he chalked it up to his being tired and left it at that. "So, how easy would it be for you to arrange a meeting between Mafalda Hopkirk and I in order to get a list?" He said. "Of muggleborns," he expounded when he realised that Johnson hadn't followed him.

Johnson shrugged. "It can take anywhere from a minute or two to several weeks." He sighed a little. "I can try to arrange one for you soon if that's what you want." He offered tentatively.

Cross sighed, "what I want is inconsequential, what my _boss_ wants, however…" he didn't need to explain his statement, after all there were things in human nature that crossed boundaries, doing what your boss wanted was one of them.

"When should I see him?" Johnson asked now that the subject had changed to Cross's boss. "He mentioned that I should come by his office and see him today, but he never gave me a time."

"I don't really know." Cross ran a hand over his face and was surprised to feel a four-day beard, God, how long had it been since he'd shaved? "If I were to suggest something, I'd recommend that you schedule it with Hannah –his receptionist- early today and then come fifteen minutes later; he usually has something going on before a meeting like yours." Cross stretched out before sitting down in his chair.

"Go!" He half-shouted at Johnson when the other man wouldn't go. With a groan of protest, Johnson got up from the couch he'd been sleeping on and walked out of Cross's office slowly.

Cross looked at his computer –which was still running- before having another idea hit him so hard it almost hurt.

, he typed into the computer, glad that the lists were in the same directory as the program. After typing in both his user name and password, he looked down at the corner of his screen and pressed **F4** to access the options and then hit **F2**.

**How many databases do you wish to crosscheck?** The prompt appeared on the screen.

**4**, Cross typed in before hitting enter.

After typing in the same two lists as before, Cross added two more lists.

**C:\SIS\MI5\CITIZENS\LISTS\** and **C:\SIS\MI5\CITIZENS\LISTS\**. With both lists chosen, and the ETA reading a day, Cross sat down and stared at the screen, he didn't' really have anything better to do.

**.oOo.**

The weeks passed by and pretty soon it was September First, the day that Hogwarts students used the Hogwarts Express to get to Hogsmeade Station and, from there, Hogwarts. The last-minute rush to get everything packed was largely avoided by Harry and Hermione, having packed up the night before and placed their bags by the door afterwards. Ron however hadn't packed at all the night before –going so far as to deride Harry and Hermione- and was frantically going about this process while Harry, Hermione, Bill, Charlie, and Mister and Misses Weasley ate breakfast sedately.

Their meal was interrupted only by occasional mundane requests, such as "pass the salt," or "could you hand me the syrup?" That, and the not uncommon frantic requests from Ron or Ginny about the location of some arcane article of clothing or other item they lost.

After a whirlwind of activity, Harry found himself outside, holding his trunk as the Ministry Driver was placing the trunks in the boot of the car. After the driver had taken the trunk, Harry found Charlie and signalled him down.

"What do you want?" Charlie asked him cautiously.

"I know what you do for a living and I'm also not deaf." Harry started, causing Charlie to give him an odd look. "I also know that there's something going on at Hogwarts that you can't talk about, but Malfoy knows it and, the way my luck goes, I'm probably going to be caught in the middle of this." Harry took a deep breath to calm himself down. "I also know that the Triwizard Tournament is going to be held again this year. What?" He said at Charlie's dazzled look. "It's easy enough to find something out when it's in the public domain and being touted as a major PR coup."

Harry grinned slightly as he had Charlie off balance, not an easy task by any stretch of the imagination. "Anyway, I'm just going to say that when the Tournament Sponsors come by to pick up dragons, don't give them a Hungarian Horntail, I have no wish to be stabbed by one."

"What makes you think that you'll be involved?" Charlie eventually asked, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You're underage."

"Do you _know_ the way my luck works?" Harry asked him by way of explanation. "I either have really good or absolutely horrid luck, no in-between."

"Alright." Charlie said slowly, eyeing Harry as if he was a crazy who had to be placed in an asylum, or at least something similar.

_One disaster partially diverted._ Harry thought to himself. _A couple dozen more to go._

He looked at the Ministry Driver a second time before having to do a double take, Kingsly Shacklebolt was driving! When did the Auror Corps become chauffeurs? "Auror Shacklebolt." Harry nodded to Kingsly as he got into the car after Ron, leaving a baffled Auror in his wake.

_.:How do you know him?:._ Hermione asked in their shared space, an area of their conjoined minds that was rapidly shrinking with disuse.

"He led the auror squad that was raiding an antique store from reports of a demonic teapot." He said at Ron's questioning look as well as to answer Hermione's question.

"Ah." Ron said while Hermione's face flashed a look of understanding before being quickly schooled into the neutral visage that she normally bore.

_Wonder what's going on with her?_ Harry wondered before turning his mind to other matters. After a moment's pause, Harry relaxed against the plush seats, allowing his eyes to close against his will and slowly drifted off, relaxing into the plush leather seat of the car.

_Always the best for the Minister,_ was his final thought as he drifted off to a half-awake half-asleep state, followed shortly by, _why is the Ministry using muggle cars?_

**.oOo.**

"See you next summer!" Came the calls from both Misses and Mister Weasley as the small group boarded the Hogwarts Express.

"We're going to go," Fred said.

"See Lee." George finished.

"Toodles." With that the twins headed away from the group and delved into the mass of people that was the crowd on the train.

Ginny decided to stick with the trio as they wove their way through the mass of people in search of their own compartment become coming upon a compartment that was inhabited by only one person; Harry was forcibly reminded of the beginning of his fifth year. The lone inhabitant raised her –for it was most definitely a she- head and Harry bit off a gasp, it was Luna.

"Hello, Luna." Harry said as he walked into the compartment, dragging his trunk behind him.

"Hello," Luna said in her usual vacant, dreamy voice. "Would you like to sit in here?"

"If that wouldn't bother you?"

"No bother." Harry was impressed, it was the most coherent conversation he'd ever had with Luna. "The Nargles aren't here to interfere." Okay, scratch that, it was like most every conversation he'd ever had with her.

With a nod, Harry moved further into the compartment, placing his trunk on the rack above the benches and then helping Hermione with hers and Ron did the same for Ginny. Once the trunks were on the racks, the entire group sat down on the benches and desperately fished for a topic to talk about.

"You know about the Rotfang conspiracy?" Luna asked the group in a whisper.

Harry suppressed a grin, he knew how this was going to go…

**.oOo.**

"Milord." Dmitri Krum knelt at the projection of his Master. "I am ever at your service."

"Dmitri Krum." The projection of his Master replied. "I have a need of you, there are several people in your part of the world who are rather resistant to our plans. They must be shown the error in their ways, permanently. Their names are as follows: Nikolai Vasilli, Audrei Kondakova and Svetlana Ramoshkov." Dmitri's Master listed the names of the three most powerful people in magical Bulgaria with what could be generously described as a smile. "Don't let me down, Dmitri."

"No milord," Dmitri Krum said as the projection vanished and his office lost the ethereal lighting that the projection had given off, "never."

He looked down at his hands before rising from his kneeling position and walked over to his desk before pulling a rather heavy tome out of one of his cabinets and scanning it for any of the three names.

He –Dmitri Krum, the head Auror for the Bulgarian Ministry of Magic- was going to kill the Bulgarian Minister of Magic, his second in command and his mistress.

"Madness." Krum whispered before looking down again at the book and beginning the process of building a plan fit for the highest ranked of all of Voldemort's agents.

**.oOo,**

"What is it, Johnson." Madame Bones asked as Franklin Johnson walked into her office after an extended absence. "Don't tell me that you've been helping the muggles or something equally crazy." She added as he started to open his mouth.

"As it so happens, I have been helping the muggles –the ones in _Government_- learn more about the Wizarding World." Johnson replied, feeling a little self-conscious. "In fact, I have a meeting with the head of my contact's department in little more than an hour."

At this Madame Bones lifted an eyebrow, but gave to indication otherwise that she'd heard him. "And the reason that you've decided to break the Statue of Secrecy?" She asked eventually in a voice hard enough to crack nails lengthways.

"I didn't have a choice, somehow they'd stumbled upon magic before." Johnson confessed. "In fact, my contact had it pretty much figured out, the only thing I did was fill in the blanks and help him convince his boss, who will likely try to convince the Prime Minister." Johnson reported dutifully, trying to diffuse the situation.

"Fudge won't be happy about this." Madame Bones said, already imagining the angry petulant man in her office demanding that the DMLE get rid of the muggles' memories of the Magical World while also telling her that her budget was going to be cut another twenty-five per-cent.

"No, I imagine that the Minister won't be that happy." And, in Johnson's book, any day that the Minister was unhappy was a good day.

The Special Investigator enjoyed a special relationship with the Department Head, while he wasn't quite on the level of Head Auror, he did have far more latitude to do his job that anybody else in the Department along with the ability to be frank with the Department Head, something nobody else within the DMLE really had.

"I apologise if I've created a cock-up of massive proportions," Johnson said eventually. "But, given the choice of Obliviating the man or helping him, I thought that the second option was the most attractive." He sounded contrite.

"Just… Just don't do something like this on your own authority again." Madame Bones eventually said after she'd stared at her folded hands for long enough. "I don't think that the Department would survive after the Minister and his toadies were done with it." She chuckled mordantly. "Hell, I don't even know if I'd survive."

Johnson allowed himself a small smile at his boss's profanity; while the Auror Corps was known for it's profane language –rather like the Muggle Navies of the world- his boss was one who rarely indulged. "Ma'am, I don't think that I would survive such an encounter."

"Get to your meeting." Madame Bones eventually ordered.

"Yes, ma'am." Johnson said as he disappeared.

**.oOo.**

Johnson reappeared in Cross's Office, what had been his 'home' for the past few weeks. "Cross." Johnson nodded at the other man as he walked out the door, disregarding his exclamations.

Johnson walked the well-worn path to the Director of MI5's office and opened the office tentatively. "Our meeting, sir?" He asked, even though he didn't have to refer to the Director as sir, he still did.

"Sit down, sit down." The Director said dismissively, waving Johnson towards one of the chairs set up before his desk. Johnson sat down in the proffered chair and waited while the Director finished up his 'telly-fone' conversation.

"Yes, Prime Minister." The Director was saying, "I have him in here with me as we speak." A pause, "what do you mean you want to speak with him?" Another pause. "Yes, sir!"

The Director then turned to face Johnson in his seat, "the Prime Minister wants to speak with you," he said as he handed Johnson the phone. "HELLO?" Johnson yelled into the receiver as he held it up.

"Goddammit!" The Director said as the Prime Minister said the same thing. "You don't have to yell!"

"Oh." Johnson said in a normal voice. "Hello?" He ventured again.

"Franklin Johnson?" The Prime Minister asked.

"Yes." Johnson said as he nodded.

"Good, now I've been told that you revealed to James here that Magic is real, correct?"

"Yes," Johnson again nodded.

"Good, now, I'm guessing that you want to know why I'm not running away screaming?"

Johnson just nodded this time before catching himself and saying "yes" in time.

"Well, you see, I know about Magic because the Minister of Magic deigns to talk with me whenever you people have an emergency, such as the Sirius Black Situation." The Prime Minister was obviously fishing for some answers regarding that situation, answers that Johnson wasn't happy to provide.

"Well, he's been exonerated." Johnson reluctantly said, as if every word physically hurt him. "Turns out that the Potters had been betrayed by somebody else, a Peter Pettigrew. We had Pettigrew in custody twice and he escaped both times." Again, each word physically hurt him, he was basically admitting that the Wizarding World was incompetent

Thankfully, the Prime Minister didn't comment on this. "Let me speak to James again." He said.

"He wants to speak to you again." Johnson said, glad to be off the 'telly-fone' with the Prime Minister.

After a few more minutes on the phone, James turned to face Johnson. "You're coming with me to a meeting with the PM in about two hours, okay?"

Johnson nodded and James spoke into the phone. "Sir, we'll be there in two," he said before hanging up.

"So, Mister Johnson, what did Madame Bones have to say about us?"

**A/N:**_ Wow, I didn't expect to have three 4000+ word chapters written in about a month. Alright, I lied in my last A/N about HHR solving their problems, that will happen in two chapters or less, I swear! Expect a little bit more emphasis on the Muggles as well as Runes. Arithmancy I'm still trying to figure out, but my AP Chemistry Course should help me come up with some ideas. Until next time, review please!_


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

Harry looked uncomfortably at Hermione, wondering what had caused such a drastic change in her that she'd gone from his best friend and possibly more to giving him the cold shoulder. Looking down at his wand-hand, he was surprised to see a Charms book lying on the floor, as if Fate herself was trying to intervene through the power of clichés. _Compulsions and You, How to Convince Somebody Magically_, read the title; Harry picked it up and flipped to the first chapter and immersed himself in the reading.

"Oi, Harry!" Ron called after he'd noticed Harry start to read the book. "Get your nose out of the book, there will be enough reading this year as it is!" He sounded indignant, though Harry couldn't tell if it truly was acting, or if Ron truly was slightly ticked with him.

"What's wrong with reading, Ronald?" Luna said from her perch to Harry's left, as Hermione simply stared at him coolly from Harry's right.

"Why…There's…" Ron blustered before Luna cut him off.

"Yes, centerwing scatter-barbs will infest your eyes making it impossible for you to see things as they are, but Harry already has that problem." She looked pensive. "You and –Hermione, was it? Seem to have problems with the Vexatious Trilling Hornpeckers, they make you do things you don't want to do." She smiled serenely at Ron and Hermione's astonished faces, as if to tell them that she was truly _Loony_.

Harry just smiled at Luna, maybe she was a little bit crazy but she would make damn sure that the ride would be interesting; her observations about Hermione and Ron were also appreciated, giving him enough of a belief that Compulsion Charms were involved and were cast on Ron and Hermione. It was either that or she was being just plain loony again, and Harry, quite frankly, liked the first possibility far more than the latter.

Looking down at the text, Harry read the selection on detection and removal of Compulsion Charms.

_A Compulsion Charm's effects are easily recognised when one has had extended contact with the subject of said charm prior to it's being administered. While the Imperious Curse has been the most often thought of spell for effecting the mind of a person, a Compulsion Charm functions just as well. When a subject's behaviour changes drastically over a period of about a day –sometimes more and sometimes less depending on the relative mind-strength of the subject as compared to the caster- it is usually indicative of a Compulsion Charm. A Compulsion can change husbands and wives into bitter enemies; best friends into passing acquaintances; or, even, your worst enemy into your best friend. _

_When one believes that a person is under the effects of a Compulsion Charm, there is a basic procedure to find out the truth of the situation. This procedure is relatively simple and requires little magic. Step One: determine how long the person has been acting odd and if there was any specific incident that stands out as being the first. Step Two: Confront the person about their behaviour and see if they have an explanation for their actions. Step Three: Cast a detection spell –see Appendix A for a list- for the final word in the matter. Step Four: Cast a dispelling charm –see Appendix B for a list- to remove the effects. Note: _finite incantatem_ usually works pretty well as a catch all, however in the case of Compulsion Charms it will increase the effects of a Compulsion Charm, making it even more difficult to break, DO NOT ATTEMPT TO DISPELL A COMPULSION CHARM VIA THE USE OF A _FINITE INCANTATEM _UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES!_

Harry knew he was tempted, but, somehow, managed to restrain himself from doing just that after reading a warning against it. However, he didn't cast a _'finite incantatem'_ on anybody he suspected to be under a Compulsion (e.g. Ron and Hermione) and, instead, flipped to Appendix A and started scanning the list. Only one spell really seemed to stand out to him, mainly because it wasn't written in Latin, instead it was in English.

'Remove Compulsion'_: While this spell is a rather recent American developed spell from the 'labs' at the Illinois Institute of Magic and Technology, it still deserves a place in our list from its sheer utility. This spell doesn't give any guaranteed results, however it can be used against nigh all Compulsion Charms with success. The only catch is that the caster must be willing to either pay a sacrifice in terms of Magical Strength or engage in a battle of wills with the one who cast the spell. The effects of the sacrifice on the caster are not permanent and will only last for a period of 2 weeks, whereas the mental battle may leave the caster physically weak for however it takes to recover with no other ill effects, regardless of outcome. Wand movements are as follows…_

Harry carefully read the part on the wand movements several times before doing them with his wand several times, trying to create some muscle memory as well as commit it to his memory.

"What are you doing, Harry?" Ron asked while Hermione simply looked up from her position and gave Harry a curious look. "It almost looks as if it were a matter of life and death!" Ron joked.

Harry silently slid his wand up his sleeve and stood up to put the book into his trunk, praying silently that Dobby would be at Hogwarts, a more loyal elf he'd yet to see. "I'm just doing some practice for a spell, Ron." Harry said, "nothing too important."

Harry looked over at Hermione after he closed his trunk –slipping the miniature Kalashnikov out of the trunk and into his pocket- and sat down, trying to see if she had noticed the wand movements. Her eyes told him that she hadn't, but Harry didn't know if he could really read anything in her eyes that the Compulsion wouldn't want him to know.

Harry valiantly fought for a topic that he thought would interest everybody present and, eventually decided to ask Luna, "are there still Center-wing Scatterbarbs surrounding me?" His voice was light and it probably would've looked to Ginny and Ron as if he were adding a little levity to the situation.

"No, they seem to have been scared off by the Vexatious Trilling Hornpeckers surrounding Ron and Hermione." Luna responded after carefully examining Harry for an uncomfortable minute. Luna then turned that uncomfortable gaze upon Hermione and Ron and examined both with a critical eye before declaring, "Hermione has older Vexatious Trilling Hornpeckers." Her tone was so self assured that Harry was tempted to cast the spell he'd just read about, but he managed to kill the impulse lest the story got around to whoever cast the spell in the first place.

"Huh?" Ginny eventually asked.

**.oOo.**

After a rather uncomfortable conversation with the Director of MI-5 about what Madame Bones had told him about the situation –both verbally and non- Johnson found himself bound for Number 2 Downing street the Director and Cross. The two MI-5 men were conversing in hushed tones that even Johnson with his magically enhanced hearing was unable to hear. He was able, however, to hear snippets occasionally, meaning that heard two phrases, however the words "Frank Bryce" and "caretaker" didn't really mean much to him in conjunction.

He just assumed that they were working on another case and left it at that, after all he couldn't be the only thing going on in the building.

They arrived at the building and let themselves in through a hidden entrance where they were let in by a plainclothes guard who shooed them towards the PM's office. After navigating several passageways that appeared to have fallen into disuse and getting several subtle course corrections from exasperated guards, they found themselves in front of the PM's door.

Cross gestured to the Director who looked around, as if to see if there was anybody higher ranked than he in the area before tentatively knocking on the door.

"Come in." The Prime Minister's voice rang from his office, and the group opened the door and walked in like a group of soldiers expecting an ambush.

"Ah, James." The PM said in a genial voice. "And, Agent Cross is it? And Franklin Johnson!" He said in a voice that almost sounded like a kid in a candy store.

Cross confirmed this as he sought a seat at the oaken desk that the PM was using, Johnson and the Director soon joined him and the PM shifted some reports out of the way before turning to face them, his face serious.

"So, Mister Johnson, I want to know several things about the Magical World." He said in a voice that was as hard as steel. "First off, I need to know how corrupt the Wizarding World is." He waved off the Special Investigator's objections. "I know full well your background –Minister of Magic Fudge was helpful in that regard- so I know that you were originally a reporter, somebody uniquely suited to observe corruption."

The rub was in that Johnson knew full well how corrupt the Wizarding World was, having busted several aurors in the force along with hit wizards and other officials for just that. However, there was just something about ratting out Wizarding World to a bunch of muggles just because they asked. "The Wizarding World as a whole is almost entirely corrupt," he heard a voice –his voice- say. "Almost the entire government is bought off by somebody or other and more than one person has been able to gain nominal control over the ministry from the outside due to money." He felt a flush of pride for his boss, the only department head he could think of who wasn't bought off by anybody. He was relatively certain that Arthur Weasley had been bought off by Dumbledore, and Bagman by a relatively unknown figure known as Julius. Now that he thought about, a lot of the Department Heads were in Julius' hands…

"To the best of my knowledge, almost every Death Eater, a terrorist that participated in several illegal activities almost fourteen years ago." He explained to the PM, Cross and the Director. "Almost every Death Eater captured before 1981, when the Dark Lord was killed, never recanted their devotion to the Dark Lord and most if not all of them are wasting away in Azkaban." Johnson paused, wondering if he really should reveal what he was going to, before deciding _to hell with it!_ "Every Death Eater captured after the Dark Lord's demise was found not guilty by reason of the Imperious curse, a curse that lets someone dominate another's mind." He explained again. "Now, while I'm not paid to think about such things, it seems rather… odd, doesn't it? His followers before 1981 all believed in him and never gave up their devotion, after 1981 they're all under the Imperious curse…" he let his voice trail off, letting them make the connections themselves.

It didn't take long. "You can't be suggesting what I _think_ you're suggesting." The PM stated in a flat voice. "No government is corrupt enough to purposely set up its own citizenry for another civil war." He paused and reiterated. "No government."

"It doesn't hurt that each one captured after the war generally belonged to a very wealthy family or had connections to one." Johnson said lightly, as if discussing the weather. "It's fairly interesting to note how many Death Eaters who were imperius'ed were also donators to the 'Re-elect Fudge campaign.'" He paused. "But, truth be told, I don't know how much damage they could do right now…"

"What about the Dark Mark set off at the Quiditich World Cup?" The PM asked pryingly, trying to get more information on the world that only deigned to speak with him ever so often. "Doesn't that tell you magical people anything?" The PM furrowed his brow. "I mean, seems like to me that it's a sign that things are going to get started again, and since his power base is still there in perfect shape… that means that whoever takes the position of Dark Lord will be able to take the reins right where Voldemort left off." Johnson flinched at the mention of Voldemort.

Johnson was tempted to throw out the PM's observations and logic because he was a muggle, but was too honest with himself to know that it was true nevertheless. "That sounds like a good theory." He allowed, before countering. "But, how does this one sound? Several people just got drunk and decided to have a good time." He smiled, feeling victorious as he threw the best theory that the DMLE had officially come up with at the muggle PM.

"Then is sounds like your population is sick, if they consider torturing muggles to be a 'good time'." The PM said in a dark voice. "Or, even worse, if they consider torturing their own to be a 'good time'." The PM sighed. "I don't know, the more I learn about this Wizarding World, the less I like it!"

Cross shrugged, but said nothing, disliking the implications as much or more than the PM or anybody else in the room did.

**.oOo.**

The meeting with the PM lasted for several hours, during which Johnson felt himself being put through the proverbial ninth degree as every iota of information he had in his head was extracted. He didn't know why it mattered if every Wizard or Witch was allowed to vote (they weren't) or if the Wizarding World considered itself a part of the United Kingdom (if they knew what it was, they would). Nor did he know what it mattered if the general populace knew they were all subjects of the Monarch of England (they didn't), he couldn't really bring himself to care either.

The more time he spent around Muggles, the more he found himself cursing the Wizarding World for their ignorance of it and for the stagnation that had cropped up in recent years. He didn't know that it was possible to land on the moon, much less that the muggles had done it twenty-six years ago. He could just imagine several of his colleagues' heads imploding due to swelling as he revealed this information.

The idea of a tank! That was the one that really got him thinking, mainly about how it could be applied to the Auror Corps. The idea that a group of men could operate a several ton vehicle that could do incalculable damage was simply astounding to him. While what he was envisioning for the Auror Corps wasn't quite as grand as the Challenger II Main Battle Tank that the PM had shown him pictures of, it would provide a good stepping off point.

"Mister Johnson?" A voice asked. Damn, he was daydreaming again, not a good habit!

Shaking his head to clear it, Johnson looked up and opened his mouth. "Yes?" He replied, trying to act nonchalant.

"The PM was just asking if you would tell us what you know of International Affairs in the Wizarding World." The Director of MI-5 supplied helpfully.

"Ah." Johnson said intelligently before trying to answer the PM's question.

"There is one major international body, the International Confederation of Wizards," Johnson began. "Its members are basically the European Ministries and the Ministries of the governments that were formerly part of the Empire." He stretched his brain for a moment, trying to come up with an answer to an unknown question. "Plus a few others, of course. However, for as a grand title as it has it lacks any real power, having only the ability to impose sanctions against a country that has to be decided by a totality of the membership… I'm sure you can see the problem there."

The PM, the Director and Cross all nodded for Johnson to continue. "That's about the extent of International Affairs in the Wizarding World, except for the World Cup. That is one event that almost every Wizarding Community participates in, whether it's being a part of the league or providing a stadium. The Americans even have a team, even though they tend to prefer Quodpot." Johnson shrugged. "But, nothing is really done except for the usual messages of 'love your fellow wizard' and the International Purebloods scratch each others' backs."

"So, basically, it's the Good Ol' Boys Party?" The PM clarified.

"Yes." Johnson said. "It's filled with people who've got their jobs because of their blood or family name, and that's it. No other qualifications aside from their blood." Johnson paused before amending. "Sometimes, however, there are skilled purebloods; my boss, Madame Bones, is a prime example. She's from a relatively prominent pureblood family, but she's also competent at her job and isn't totally lost when it becomes important for stuff to be done correctly." Johnson paused and decided to let the others ask more questions instead of trying to decide what they'd want to know.

"How would this International Confederation of Wizards react to the world being told _en masse_ that Wizards exist?" Cross asked from his position, drawing a startled look from the three other people in the room, two of which turned to speculative glances. Johnson felt as if he were the odd one out.

"How can you possibly reach everybody in the world?" Johnson asked. "The Wizarding Wireless Network is only really present here and each country has their own news agency or whatnot that can only be reached if you know the spell…"

The PM and Director of MI-5 exchanged a look, communicating only as colleagues that have known the other for a long time can. Cross was able to decipher the look, if only because he was having the same thoughts.

"Assuming that you're able to get out the message to almost everybody in the world, the ICW would be forced to reveal their existence, only because they lack the manpower to wipe the memories of everybody in the world in a reasonable time frame." Johnson looked in horror at the PM and Director with a look of horror.

"You seriously can't be thinking…" He let his voice trail off as he thought about drawing his wand.

**.oOo,**

The _Hogwarts Express_ had pulled into Hogsmeade station not even five minutes earlier, and Harry was still stuck in his compartment. It wasn't that the door was spelled shut, or that there was anybody actively trying to keep him locked in. No, Hermione had slipped out before the train arrived to use the WC and Ron had slipped out to with the excuse of trying to get some more food from the Trolley Lady.

Harry was beginning to believe that they were the smart ones. He'd been stuck in his compartment with Ginny and Luna ever since the train had stopped because of the massive onrush of bodies many of them blocking the door directly and preventing the door from opening.

The crowd eventually died, allowing the three out of the compartment. Giving silent thanks, Harry walked out of the train and into the station proper.

"'Arry!" A voice that could only be Hagrid's shouted from somewhere behind Harry and to the left. Harry turned and found.

"Hagrid!" He shouted, waving towards the massive half-giant, who eagerly waved back. Harry thought he saw several first years get knocked flat before getting up, dazed.

"Good summer?" Hagrid asked earnestly.

"The best in a long time." Harry replied. At that moment he realised that shouldn't have grown as distant with Hagrid as he had in the end of his Third Year. Not only was the man a link to his parents who was bound to have a veritable horde of information regarding them, but he was also the man who introduced him to the Wizarding World. He resolved to fix that the first chance he got, which, if he remembered his Fourth Year correctly, wouldn't be until sometime next week.

Waving again at the half-giant, Harry made his way towards the Thestral-drawn carriages. He didn't know why it didn't bother him as much anymore, maybe it was riding one to the Ministry last year, but he was able to see something akin –as in a very distant relative- to good looks in the skeletal horses.

After patting one of the horse's noses with his right hand –and taking pains to insure that his wand wouldn't fall out- Harry got into the carriage that he'd chosen. Inside it were Luna, Ginny and Nevile. Ron and Hermione weren't in sight.

"What?" He eventually snapped at Ginny and Nevile's questioning stares.

"Wh-wh-why did you p-p-p-pat the air li-li-like that?" Ginny managed to stutter out, her desire for information going to war with the last vestiges of her crush.

"This carriage is pulled by a pair of Thestrals, and let's leave it at that." Harry said somewhat darkly before checking his pockets again to insure that both the Kalashnikov and the book on Compulsions were safely wedged in. He said a quick prayer of thanks when he realised that both were still there.

"Wonder what Dumbledore's got to say?" Harry asked idly as the cart made its way to the castle.

The conversation that he'd precipitated didn't die until they reached the castle.

**.oOo.**

After being stonewalled for the thousandth time, Johnson finally gave up his quest to figure out the PM and Director of MI-5's plan and, instead, continued to answer their questions.

"How about recent major events in the past twenty years?" Cross asked from his perch by the PM's bookcase and fire. He was perusing it and eventually pulled out a large tome that had a thin layer of dust on it.

"Well… There was the Boy-Who-Lived." Johnson ventured. "After that, well, there was, of course, Russia rejoining the rest of the Wizarding World in nineteen eighty-eight." Several significant looks were shared among the muggles in the world, unnoticed by the Special Investigator. "There was the Lockhart scandal two years ago and then Sirius Black's escape last year." Johnson shrugged. "I'm sure that I could come up with at least twenty more events if pressed, but those are the only ones that come immediately to mind."

"You've mentioned the Boy-Who-Lived several times, now." The PM stated. "What can you tell us about him?"

"Well, he survived a killing curse in nineteen eighty-one from the Dark Lord Voldemort and, instead, rebounded the cure upon it's caster, killing him instantly." Johnson paused to collect his thoughts. "He was a year old at the time and both his parents were killed. Albus Dumbledore, the Supreme Mugwump of the Wizengamot, interceded on his behalf and was declared his nominal guardian. He'd be about fourteen right now and, apparently, has a habit of raising hell at school."

"Could you put us in contact with him?" The PM asked seriously. "It would be advantageous for Wizards to be able to show us a celebrity, to wipe away the bad taste that your world, quite frankly, leaves in all of our mouths."

Johnson looked at the PM in pure, abject shock. "Leaves a bad taste in your mouths?" He repeated dumbly, shocked by the man's audacity. "But, what?" He said, unable to form a coherent sentence.

"Why would the Wizarding World need to have a favourable impression with you?" Cross said after he'd gathered enough of his wits to be capable of intelligent conversation. "You are, after all, only a muggle."

"I'm the muggle who's going to unmask the Wizarding World and show it for what it is." The PM said sternly, pressing a button underneath his desk, his 'Panic' button.

"Wha?" It appeared that this was not Johnson's day for completing words.

"You seriously think that I would let the Wizarding World stay hidden after I've learned all this about it?" The PM asked incredulously. "The Wizarding World, so far, is filled with ignorant bigots. It's my job to expose it and, possibly, bring it into the Twentieth Century, because, like it or not, you're all citizens of my country."

"Bu… Bu… Bu…" Johnson was reduced to a quivering mass of trembling flesh.

"Good day, Mister Johnson." The PM said. "Remember to bring Harry Potter to our next meeting." He went back to reading the reports on his desk, a clear indication that the meeting was over.

"But, you _can't_ do _that_." Johnson said. "You're a _muggle_."

A small smile of victory played upon the PM's face. "I'm the muggle that's going to unmask the Wizarding World." The PM repeated. "Remember that, Mister Johnson."

**A/N:**_ A new direction for this Fic… a direction that this has really been going towards ever since the introduction of Cross. Anyway, I finally know how this story is going to end and, I'm guessing, that there's only going to be about ten chapters or so left in this story… maybe more, but definitely not less._

_As you can see, I've fallen victim to the greatest of clichés in "Manipulative!Dumbledore" fics, namely the Compulsion Charm, but I figured they were the best explanation available to me without getting into the "Really-Evil-Soul-Magicks" that would otherwise be the issues. No, Ron's not going to be a stupid-evil-git in this story, just a stupid-git._

_Aside from that… nothing's really happening in my world after next week, so I might actually be able to write more than 1-2 chapters a month! Ain't that just grand?_


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

The sorting went as Harry remembered it, with only two exceptions. The first was that Professor Moody was present for the entire ceremony instead of arriving halfway through. The second was that, somehow, the Headmaster managed to fix Harry with a look that, while discrete, managed to instil feelings of disappointment in Harry.

The password for Gryffindor tower –arguably the most random variable in a time stream- was even the same. However, the similarities ended there.

When the group walked into the tower, Ron left immediately for the dorms while Hermione followed suit a few minutes later. Otherwise, the rest of the Fourth Years were curious what was up with the howler during last year's farewell feast.

"What was it about Harry?" Asked Parvati after Harry had managed to free himself from Dean and Seamus's clutches. "That howler from last year, I mean."

Harry shrugged in response. "I don't know, though I think I can thank whoever sent the howler for passing all my classes with decent grades as opposed to failing them." Harry managed a weak smile before ducking out of the Gryffindor Common Room.

Harry was wishing that he'd brought his Invisibility cloak with him as he crawled along the edge of walls, making his way to the 7th Floor Corridor where the Room of Requirements was located.

After several close calls –twice with Snape and then once with McGonagall in her cat form- he made it to the stretch of wall and quickly paced in front of it three times. _I require a place that is safe from the headmaster to converse_, was the gist of what he was thinking, though not quite in as flowery of language. The doorway appeared –as if the stone was molten- and Harry dashed into the room and watched as it sealed up behind him.

Harry turned around as he stepped away from the doorway and almost fell over from what he saw. Hundreds of Phoenixes were scattered around the cavern that had been formed. The natural ledges that were cut into the walls were being used as perches as Phoenixes flamed in and out of the cavern, bearing prey and other goodies.

Harry could've sworn he'd heard the sound of molten magma but dismissed it… until one of the Phoenixes started talking.

_.:Welcome, Wizard,:._ A Phoenix -Harry didn't know which of the group- 'said' in his mind.

_.:Where am I?:._ Harry couldn't describe the action, except that he was thinking 'outside' his mind, rather like how he was able to converse with Hermione, but only applied to a greater scale.

_.:This is a manifestation of Hogwarts:._ The voice said into Harry's mind. _.:Think of me as a facet of Hogwarts and this area -the Fiery Caverns if you will- as Hogwarts' 'body':._

_.:I think my head is going to hurt after this:._ Harry groused.

_.:We've followed you for Three Years, Harry Potter:._ The voice said sternly. _.:We know you're not as dumb as you put on:._ A pause, during which Harry had to admit that the voice was correct. _.:You can rest assured that no body will hear this conversation unless both of us allow them to, speak freely:._

Harry faced the Phoenix closest to him and began stroking it's feathers before he spoke. "What do you know about time-travel?"

**.oOo.**

_Oh, god, my head hurts_.

Cross groaned as he sat up in his bed, blindly groping for his clock radio in the half-light of his bedroom. His hands found it and he raised it up to his eyes, blinking several times before the numbers came into focus. _Oh-Four-Thirty in the bloody morning?_

That was odd, he was normally a sound sleeper and was able to sleep for eight hours on end, and… he couldn't remember going to sleep. Anxiously smelling his own breath –an involved process that wasn't fit for polite company- he was disappointed to note a lack of alcohol on his breath. The lack of a pounding headache also pointed to a conclusion of him not getting pissed out of his mind. _Why the bloody hell don't I remember going to bed?_ Cross had a near-perfect memory, making the question more ominous than it would be with a normal person.

He threw his covers off as he rotated and walked towards his bedroom door. He opened the door and bit back a curse as light flooded his vision, momentarily blinding him. Once he'd blinked away his blindness, he was able to actually concentrate on his hearing.

"Are you sure that's everything?" A man's voice asked hurriedly. "All I could find was a scrap of this damned light parchment with the Boy-Who-Lived's name written on it."

"What, Harry Potter?" Another man's voice asked.

Harry Potter. Somehow the name was familiar to Cross, something about somebody having to find him to talk to the PM.

"How many other Boy-Who-Lived's do you know?" The first man inquired.

"Shut it you two, he should be out for the next few hours, but we'd better hurry." A familiar voice cut through. "I never should've saved his worthless muggle arse."

Somehow the term muggle meant something to Cross, and the man's voice was threatening to trigger a memory release in his mind. However, they were going through his secret files that he kept at home, and that _had_ to be dealt with.

One of the more 'open' of secrets at MI-5 was that Cross was fully licensed to carry heat. While he didn't carry all the time, it was still a privilege that he made sure to make judicious use of whenever possible. He carefully slunk back into his room, his eyes able to see in the almost lit room much better than they had been.

Able to navigate around his room, he found his closet, opened it carefully, and dug around in it, extracting a Glock automatic pistol after a few seconds. Carefully pushing the cartridge home, Cross cocked the pistol as best he could before peering out of his bedroom door.

He didn't see anybody in the hallway connecting his room to his office and could only see the men's outlines in his office because of the way their shadows played on the wall.

_Three, two on the left, one on the right._

Cross wished at that moment that he had a flash bang grenade or the like on hand, as it would be easier to incapacitate them and get the coppers in there then kill or wound two and incapacitate a third. He reached into his pocket and was thankful that he still had his remote.

Everyone involved in his current case carried one; it was a panic button that would bring the SAS, MI-5, MI-6 and/or the local coppers to his location. He couldn't remember what it was for, except that he needed the back up, and he needed it now. He stabbed down the panic button with his thumb and withdrew his right hand and placed it back on his pistol, he'd need all the control that he could muster right now…

"FREEZE!" He yelled as he burst into his office, turning to his right and shooting the man in the head, killing his almost instantly, and turning to face the other two.

The two men –_wizards?_- were drawing up their sticks –_wands?_- to face him, confusion evident on their faces. "DROP THE WANDS!" Cross yelled, hoping that the shock would make them do just that. "I SAID DROP THEM!" He reiterated as neither man made a move.

"You have to understand, Michael," the man on the left said, starting to drop the wand. "I was doing what was best to keep my world safe, I didn't want it unmasked by the muggles, magic has to be kept pure."

Cross fixed this man who evidently knew him with his best stare and, in an excellent display of marksmanship shot his wand in half and doing the same to the other man's wand.

The men gave him an astonished look as they contemplated the broken sticks they now grasped. After a few moments of silence contemplation their looks turned into something approaching hatred.

**.oOo.**

"Wonder why they were so anxious about us being here right now?" Sergeant Ernest Reynolds, London Police, said as he walked up to the door of the house where he'd been ordered to. "Five doesn't usually have us do work like this. They like having their Black Bag teams do their dirty work."

"Theirs is not to reason why." Officer Samantha Dexter, his partner of 3 years, quoted as she moved towards the door. "I just wish I knew what was in there waiting for us."

A gunshot split the night, followed by two more and the police officers were in the house within thirty seconds, breaking the door instead of unlocking it. They didn't see anybody in the house, however the lights were almost all on, giving the place an eerie feel to it.

They didn't shout as they moved in, feeling that it would be counterproductive in a hostage situation like they felt they were likely to discover. Instead, they moved silently, wraith-like, towards the hallway on the left. Once there, they looked down the hallway and they could see the silhouette of a man holding a gun, and the silhouettes of two others –likely men.

Without a word between the two, they moved towards the door and were about ready to shout out the typical 'DOWN ON THE GOUND' that they would in a situation like this when the man holding the gun opened his mouth.

"It's about time you got here." He said conversationally. "I didn't know how long it would take for you to receive me signal and, truth be told, I was resolved to wait here all night."

"Michael Cross?" Sergeant Reynolds asked, cautiously.

"That's me." The man holding the gun –Michael Cross- nodded, keeping his eyes on the two men.

"I think we can handle it from here." Reynolds said. "After we get them in jail…" He let his voice trail off as Cross shook his head in a very definite manner.

"No, I think that the world will be better off if their genetic material is stopped right here." Cross smiled grimly. "Besides, this is as good as a declaration of war… and they haven't signed Geneva so it doesn't apply…"

Reynolds watched in a state of horrified fascination as he watched Cross shoot the man on the left before turning to face the man on the right. "Who sent you?" Reynolds heard him demand.

No answer.

_Slap._ Who ever said that physical violence wasn't a way to loosen people's tongues?

"Who sent you?" He demanded again.

No answer.

_Slap_. "Who sent you."

No answer.

_Slap_. "Who sent you?"

"Madame Bones." Reynolds was horrified to see the man spit out some bloody teeth. "Under orders of Minister Fudge."

"Excellent." Cross grinned ferally before shooting the man and pulling out a tape recorder and pressing the stop button. "Thanks for watching my back in case more of these people showed up. Cross looked down at his watch. "We have to get to the PM."

"You're not going anywhere, Mister Cross." Reynolds heard himself say as he drew his pistol –he was one of the odd coppers that actually were armed. "I just watched you torture a prisoner. I believe you owe me an explanation."

"You can get it as we make our way to the PM." Cross grated out. "It is imperative that we get this information to the PM and let him make the decision."

"Make it quick."

"Magic, real, government, auror." Cross said with a triumphant look on his face.

"What?"

"I'll tell you in the squad."

"This had better be one hell of a story."

"Oh, it is."

**.oOo.**

When the Squad Car finally slowed down, they were in front of Number Two Downing street and Cross leapt from the car faster that he thought was humanly possible. He sped past the guards, flashing his ID as he went, and was into the building faster than anybody, if they knew the word, could say "quidditich".

Cross found the PM at his desk –despite the hour- and looked at him concerned. There were no outside markings of damage, but he'd seen the files, he knew better than most muggles what Wizards were capable of, and he knew that there was a spy in this office.

"Listen," Cross said to the room. "You'd better tell your master to get his ass over here so fast that he'd think it was yesterday, he has a lot of explaining to do."

The portrait above the fireplace moved and gave Cross a sniff of disapproval. "The Minister answers only to himself," the portrait said in a funny voice. "It does not answer to the likes of you!"

"The likes of _me_?" Cross thundered. "Your boss, the Minister, has declared War on the Muggle world!" He gave the portrait a venomous look that could've melted stone.

The portrait quickly vanished before reappearing in the portrait. "The Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, will be arriving in this lowly office in five minutes." The Portrait announced.

"Agent Cross," the PM said, "what is the meaning of this? I mean-" He was quickly cut off by Cross.

"Not until the Minister of Magic gets his ass here."

The five minutes passed relatively quickly, though strained, and then the fireplace roared to life with green flame and a rather haggard man grasping a bowler hat appeared.

"Now, what is this about War?" The man, Fudge demanded addressing the question to the PM.

"Minister Fudge." Cross said before the PM could answer. "I know that there are such things as Pensives," he ignored the man's gasp of outrage. "Now, if you could get one here in, oh, say, a minute that would go a long ways to helping our relations."

"Now, see here!" Fudge blustered. "I am the Minister of Magic, you simply cannot _do_ this."

"You have thirty seconds." Cross said, looking disinterestedly down at his watch.

"You can't do this!" Fudge said again, Cross thought in some vacant corner of his mind that if he had stamped his foot the effect wouldn't have been any closer to whining.

"Mister Fudge," Cross dropped the honorific on purpose. "I can, and I will do this." He looked down at his watch again. "Fifteen seconds."

"Alright," it appeared that this Fudge would be a wonderful person to play poker with –especially because he evidently couldn't take any pressure- Cross could almost feel the imaginary Quid flowing in!

The Minister threw some powder into the fireplace and then began yelling instructions into the fire. Not ten seconds after he threw the powder into the fire, A large basin on a pillar was thrown into the Minister's waiting arms. "Here it is." Fudge said as he ungracefully set down the pensive.

Cross grinned as he drew the wand that he'd stolen from the first man he'd shot that morning. Had it only been about forty-five minutes ago? The Minister's eyes followed it and become very wide –so wide that Cross probably could've place a teacup on them and used them as saucers.

He remembered what Johnson had taught him about obtaining memories and concentrated hard on the memories in question before moving his wand with the memories and flicking them into the pensive.

"Let's view these, shall we?" Cross asked, his hand falling down to his Glock –hidden by his coat.

"How do we do that?" The PM asked as Fudge moved towards the pensive.

"Just do as the bumbling idiot does." Cross hissed to the PM who moved to the pensive and followed Fudge's example by placing his face into the cool liquid surface.

"That was bloody amazing!"

"Mother of God."

Cross spun around –the Glock already in his hand- before relaxing when he realised that it was the coppers that had brought him here. "Join them in the pensive, it's pretty enlightening for anybody interested in these wand wavers." Cross looked over at the group. "And I think you'll both be involved somehow."

Both Coppers nodded their agreement and they walked over to the pensive and stuck their heads into it.

Fifteen minutes later a shaken PM and victorious Fudge emerged from the pensive. Cross merely leaned against a wall and watched as the inevitable fireworks began.

**.oOo.**

Harry emerged from the Room of Requirements after what felt like an eternity –his watch told him that almost eight hours had passed- feeling more drained than he had after he'd finished his OWL's.

He ducked into an alcove and pulled his invisibility cloak over his body and melted into the shadows. Using the Marauder's Map Harry navigated the halls of Hogwarts until he noticed something strange.

_What the hell are Hermione and Ron doing in Dumbledore's office?_

Quickly changing his course, Harry found himself outside the stone gargoyle that guarded the Headmaster's Office. Harry sat down on one of the Stone Benches and waited, his system still running, somehow.

After fifteen minutes of waiting Harry watched as Hermione and Ron walked out of the Headmaster's Office. Ron went blundering ahead, straight towards the hallway leading to the Gryffindor Common Room whereas Hermione lingered at the spot, almost as if she'd grown roots.

Harry got up off of the stone bench and followed her as she followed Ron down the hallway. After about a hundred feet worth of passageway –filled with the obligatory twists and turns that every castle had- he made his presence known.

"How was Dumbledore?" Harry said, pulling off his invisibility cloak and sliding his wand up his sleeve for easy drawing later.

Hermione gasped and turned around so fast that it almost seemed as if she had never been facing the other direction. "What makes you think I've been to Dumbledore's Office?" She asked.

"Don't lie to me, Hermione." Harry said flatly. "I know you too well for that to work. "I repeat, how was Dumbledore?"

"He is doing well," Hermione eventually answered. "He seems a bit concerned that you scorn his attempts at keeping you safe and running off to join Sirius… a belief I most fervently share!" Her voice was almost shrill, and high-pitched enough that Harry could see several portraits raising their eyes sleepily.

"_Remove Compulsion_." Harry intoned as he slashed his wand diagonally up and to the left before accentuating it with a stab towards Hermione's head. He couldn't ever explain how he was able to make his decision, just that he 'willed' it, but he sacrificed some of his magic and broke the bonds the held Hermione's mind captive.

"Harry?" Hermione said in a small voice as she sunk to her knees, rocking back and forth. "Harry?" _.:Harry?:._ She cried out in her mind.

Harry crouched down and picked her up in a fireman's carry and lifted her up before starting to walk towards the Gryffindor Common Room.

He raced with Hermione –who was now grasping him around his neck for better stability- down the hallways until he reached the Fat Lady's portrait, which was just opening for Ron.

Harry scurried through the portrait hole as Ron disappeared into it and managed to collapse on the couch after setting Hermione down in another. He closed his eyes and let himself drift into the arms of Morpheus.

**.oOo.**

"I have had enough of this!" Fudge screamed at the PM. "I will not be lectured to by muggles about morals!" He started yelling again. "You are no better than animals, being unable to do magic! The oldest muggle will live to about eighty seven, whereas any Wizard worth anything will live for at least a hundred years!"

The PM regarded Fudge with cold eyes. "I find your bigotry rather… upsetting." He said calmly. "I would like it if you could go somewhere else to express your feelings on the subject, such as to your Lord Voldemort." The PM raised up his hand with two fingers extended, forming a "V".

"In the years that I've held this office, I've received two visits from you, once when I took office and then a visit last year about the Sirius Black situation. You conveniently left out the fact that he never had a trial!

"I think my American Counterpart would have a few words for you too," the PM continued. "I believe that their Declaration of Independence opens with a line that your world could take to heart, in a nutshell it states that all humans are equal."

"Now look here!" Fudge started to draw his wand, but stopped when he saw the two coppers and Cross start drawing their respective weapons. "You cannot do magic." He reiterated. "It is the view of the Government of the Peoples of Britain that you are not fully human."

"False." The PM said before opening a drawer on his desk and pulling out a photocopy of an old document. "Do you know what this is a copy of, Minister?" He said, his vindictiveness hidden just below the surface.

"No, I'm afraid that one muggle document looks just the same to me as any other." Fudge shrugged.

"It's not a muggle document." The PM interjected. "Well, not entirely muggle in any case. This is the _Magna Carta_, the Great Charter. It did more than just establish that all are equal under the law, it forever placed the Magical Governments of what would become the United Kingdoms of Great Britain, Wales and Northern Ireland under their respective muggle governments. In essence, you work for me."

"What?" Fudge's face purpled. "There's no way that the magical people would accept that!"

"We were at War." The PM said flatly. "And we were winning. Your people just didn't have the population nor the means of killing at a distance like we did. So, the _Magna Carta_ served not only to end the war, but to establish other important parts of the Muggle Government."

The PM then pulled out a photocopy of another photocopy of a piece of paper.

"This is a copy of the _Disraeli Inheritance_." He said gravely. "In rough terms the Crown gave up it's power over the Magical World and gave it up to Parliament and, in return, received several bonuses." The gave a feral smile. "It looks like you are well and truly out of luck, Minister." He said with the hint of a smug grin starting to show. "Anything else you'd like to add before I add a final nail into your coffin?"

"No." Minister Fudge's back slumped, he knew when he was defeated. "I don't want you to add anything to my complete humiliation." He said. "How will I explain to the voters that I let the Wizarding World be uncovered by muggles?" He lamented.

"I'm positive that we could reach a mutually acceptable conclusion, Minister Fudge." The PM said, scanning his documents.

**.oOo.**

Harry called the ring of Goblin runes into being with the practiced motions that Redclaw had taught him before calling another ring and forming the outline of a sphere with the two rings. Inside the pseudo-sphere the time blinked as if it was a digital clock.

**05:49**

Groaning as he moved, Harry looked over at Hermione -who was still asleep on a couch- before trying to fall asleep again. After several attempts at this, Harry decided that he wasn't going to be able to fall back to sleep, despite his best efforts.

Instead he switched tacks, breaking open one of the books he'd nicked from Sirius's 'cottage' and using the Goblin Runes to create a directional light that would shine on his book until he stopped it. Totally ignoring the fact that it was advanced magic in favour of his book, Harry never noticed an envelope fall out of the book's back cover.

Harry moved to turn his page only to have a hairy cat-devil tear the book out of his hands before curling up in Harry's lap. Despite the fact that Crookshanks only tolerated Harry half the time, he was willing to put up with the demon-cat if only for Hermione's sake. Harry reached down to grab the discarded book and his fingers brushed along the edges of the envelope.

He pulled up the envelope -addressed simply to: C_ub- _before opening it and pulling out the letter.

_Dear Cub_

_I feel that I owe both you and Hermione an apology on the behalf of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black. What I did was inexcusable and I don't think that I'll be able to bring myself to forgive myself if our relationship doesn't ever recover from this bout._

_As I write this you and Hermione are holed up in my old study doing god only knows what. George has been kind enough to check in with me after watching you two for a little while after delivering your meals._

_However, Harry, if you would let Moony or I just finish our jobs and let us apologize to you more would've been made clear, but you wouldn't let us say anything until lately and it seems that apologies are not needed in that case._

_Anyway, I'm tired -it's only a day until you have to leave for the Weasley's and it's about two hours until you and Hermione make your, normal break for bed._

_Included in this letter are two tickets for the Earl's Concert this year. You know I enjoy my music -even the muggle bands- and I think that you and Hermione would benefit from exposure to Pink Floyd._

_Send me a not with Hedwig when you have an answer,_

_Sirius_

Harry looked down at the parchment, vowing silently to not let himself drift further from the whole reason he'd had for going back in time. It was simply something he didn't want to do, despite the fact that he'd gone and done it.

Maybe he should take Sirius up on his offer?

**A/N:**_ Here it is! I've been working on this chappy bit by bit lately, trying to get it just as I like it... and, truth be told, it's not my favourite chapter I've ever written, but it has to happen. In response to those who say that it's unrealistic that Sirius and Harry split over 'so little', well, I had the feeling that, had I been hit by a stunner, I would've been pissed and not want to talk to those two, or, had I already forgiven them, listen to their apologies all the time._

_Anyway, I like the characters of Sirius and Moony too much to let them sit for too long. Like I promised, Hermione is now free of the Compulsions, 2 chapters, just like I said._

_I'll prolly work in another letter from Sirius in the next chapter bringing up the Dark Mark Incident since more than a few people have brought that up and are wondering what happened._

_Please Read and Review!_


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